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Grace Harlowe’s Overland Riders. 


Frontispiece. 



Grace Harlowe’s Overland 
Riders on the Old 
Apache Trail 


By 

JESSIE GRAHAM FLOWER, A.M. 

Author of The Grace Harlowe High School Series, The Grace Harlowe 
College Girls Series, Grace Harlowe’s Problem, Grace Harlowe’s 
Golden Summer, Grace Harlowe Overseas, Grace Harlowe 
with the Red Cross in France, Grace Harlowe with the 
U. S. Troops in the Argonne, Grace Harlowe with 
the Marines at Chateau Thierry, Grace Harlowe 
with the Yankee Shock Boys at St. Quentin, 

Grace Harlowe with the American Army 
on the Rhine, etc., etc. 


Illustrated 


PHILADELPHIA 

HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY 


COPYRIGHTED, 1921, BY 
Howard E. Altemus 

•/><? 


APR -S »2l 
S>CI. A614044 


\a l 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Chapter I — The Call of the Wild 11 

The Overton girls plan for a summer outing in the 
saddle. Hippy has a dark secret. “No weak lemon- 
ade trips for me/’ declares Emma Dean. A proposal 
that is both interesting and alarming. Old friends 
reunited. A journey toward the setting sun. 

Chapter II — On the Overland Coach 25 

Grace Harlowe ’s discovery. Overton girls vote for a 
night ride on the old Deadwood stagecoach. “Play 
tricks on us and you will be sorry . 11 Off for a novel 
ride. Inside passengers register a violent protest. 

The coach threatens to fall to pieces. 


Chapter III — A Thrilling Halt 41 

Hippy takes a new kind of “sideslip.” Grace hears 
of the savage Apaches. Ike Fairweather is amazed. 
Elfreda issues a solemn warning. “Something is go- 
ing on here ! ’ 1 exclaims Grace Harlowe under her 
breath. * 1 All out, and keep your hands up ! ’ 1 


Chapter IV — The Battle with the Bandits 52 

Highwaymen and Overton girls in a pitched battle. 

1 1 The cowards ! ’ 9 cries Grace Harlowe. Bandits dis- 
cover their mistake too late. Wounded and defeated, 
outlaws of the Apache Trail throw away their weapons. 
Disaster overtakes the Overton girls. 

5 


6 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Chapter V — Wanted by the Sheriff 63 

The Deadwood stagecoach goes over a precipice and is 
lost. Ike Fairweather ’s rage beyond the power of 
words to express. Grace gives her prisoners a stern 
warning. A grilling journey on foot. A notorious 
bandit leader among the captives. 

Chapter YI — A Shot Well Placed 74 

Ike Fairweather joins the Overton party. Eiders of 
the Old Apache Trail. Lieutenant Wingate comes a 
cropper. A succession of spills. The first night in 
camp. Hippy ’s oratory is checked by a bullet. ‘ ‘ Put 
out the campfire ! 1 * commands Grace Harlowe. 

Chapter YII — A Lively Night in Camp 84 

The first casualty. A mysterious shot. The Overton 
camp is put under guard. Bifle shots alarm the camp- 
ers. A silence “ heavy with significance. ’ ’ Ike Fair- 
weather wings a night prowler. Grace makes a 
startling discovery. ‘ 1 The ponies have gone, Mr. Fair- 
weather ! ’ ’ 

Chapter YIII — Hippy Calls to Arms 94 

Aroused by a low-spoken warning. Hurried prepara- 
tions are made to defend the camp. The battle opened 
with a thrilling Indian war whoop. “Steady, girls! 
We’re going to catch it!” Strategy that bore fruit. 
“We have ’em on the run! ” cries Hippy. 

Chapter IX — A Startling Discovery 101 

Attackers lose heavily. Indians or white men — which? 

The Overton girls enjoy a real picnic. Emma Dean is 
missing. 1 ‘ Elf reda, get a rifle and come with me!” 
directs Grace Harlowe incisively. ( 1 Something serious 
surely has happened to Emma. ’ 9 


CONTENTS 


7 


PAGE 

Chapter X — A Double Capture 110 

Grace picks up the trail. The search continued deep 
into a somber canyon. Signal shots are fired. A human 
voice sounds close at hand. “ Grace! Oh, Grace! 

Save me ! ’ ’ wails Emma Dean. Overton girls in the 
hands of mountain outlaws. 

Chapter XI — Following a Cold Trail 123 

i 1 1 tell you I heard Grace ’s signal shots ! ’ ’ Lieuten- 
ant Wingate fails to find a trace of the missing ones. 

Ike noses out the trail. “ Eight here’s where they 
took to their ponies. ” A weird night journey. The 
guide confesses himself beaten. 

Chapter XII — An Interrupted Interview 131 

Threats fail to disturb Grace Harlowe. A bandit’s 
wife demands to know why Grace shot Con Bates. 
“I’m goin’ to see thet you settle for thet little job.’* 
Belle Bates meets her match. * e Drop thet gun, an ’ do 
it quick ! ’ ’ commands a stem voice behind Grace Har- 
lowe. 

Chapter XIII — A Struggle tor Life 138 

A case of shoot or be shot. * 1 Bun, Emma ! Bun ! ” A 
battle of give and take. Grace gets a bullet wound. 

A dash for freedom. The escape. Grace makes the 
best of a serious situation. A blood-chilling wail of 
agony sounds close at hand. 

Chapter XIY — A Night of Terror 150 

* 1 There it goes again ! 9 9 Emma Dean gives way to 
her fears as the wild, haunting wail is repeated. Two 
yellow eyes in the dark. Grace fires a telling shot. 
Alarmed by signal shots in the canyon. The two Over- 
ton girls witness a spirited battle. 


8 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Chapter XV — Ike Distinguishes Himself 160 

The end of a grilling hike. Western Jones wings the 
bandits. Elfreda Briggs sews up Grace Harlowe ’s 
wound. The operation proves to be more than Ike and 
Emma can stand. “Next time I shore ’ll look t’other 
way,” avers the old stagecoach driver. 

Chapter XVI — A Glimpse into Fairyland 166 

Overton girls mess in the weird forest of Sahuaro. The 
outfit selects a new name for itself. Lieutenant Win- 
gate’s speech rudely interrupted. The wonders of the 
Apache Mountains are unfolded before the Overland 
Eiders. Hippy’s chest swells with pride. 

Chapter XVII — Going to Bed in the Clouds 175 

Lieutenant Wingate loses his hat, and Ike Fairweather 
has a narrow escape. Grace decides to explore the an- 
cient cliff dwellings. Being above the clouds gives the 
Overland Eiders a new thrill. An alarm arouses Grace 
at dead of night. 

Chapter XVIII — The Hardest Blow of All 186 

A jar and a crash. “Some one has run our wagon off 
the trail into the canyon ! ’ ’ gasps Grace Harlowe. 
Hippy and the bandits battle in a cloud. Grace takes 
a hand. Emma Dean bewails the loss of her black silk 
skirt. Horses and riders are now obliged to carry the 
Overlanders ’ equipment. 

Chapter XIX — Heroines of the Trail 198 

The arrival at Eoosevelt Dam. Grace Harlowe meets 
an old friend from the front. The fame of the Over- 
land Eiders has preceded them. An Apache Indian 
engaged to care for the ponies. An evening of real 
enjoyment at the mountain inn. 


CONTENTS 


9 


PAGE 

Chapter XX — The Mysterious Arrow 205 

Picnicking by the blue waters of Lake Roosevelt. 

‘ 1 The end of a perfect day ! * 1 Guests entertained at 
the Overland Riders ’ camp. Food, to Hippy, of 
greater moment than mere Indians. The army spirit 
of freedom. A barbed messenger drops into the camp 
of the Overlanders. 

Chapter XXI — A Night of Thrills 217 

A warning of trouble to come. The storm breaks. 

“I think we are going to catch it,” mutters Grace 
Harlowe. Tents wrecked by the gale. The Overland 
camp is swept by bullets from the mountains. Tea 
and crackers replace storm and bullets. Guests have 
an exciting time. 

Chapter XXII — Relics of an Ancient Race 228 

A picnic in the home of the Cliff Dwellers. A guest 
faints on the brink of the chasm. Grace prepares for 
her daring descent. General Gordon protests. 1 ‘ Hold 
fast to the rope ! ’ ’ All being ready, Grace Harlowe 
goes over the edge of the precipice, a smile on her face. 

Chapter XXIII — Between Earth and Sky 236 

A dizzy descent through space. “Harlowe luck is 
with me!” Grace explores the ancient community 
house. The mustiness of centuries is on the air. 

‘ 1 That smells like a dead fire ! ’ ’ Grace Harlowe is 
startled by a human groan. The discovery. 

Chapter XXIV — Grace Solves the Mountain Mystery 242 
“Joe Smoky Face! What does this mean?” demands 
Grace. In the bandits ’ lair. A lonely vigil on the 
mountain. Grace traps the bandits. “That is what 
I call good shooting, ’ ’ declares Grace Harlowe. 
Overland Riders at the journey’s end. 
















GRACE HARLOWE’S OVER- 
LAND RIDERS ON THE 
OLD APACHE TRAIL 


CHAPTER I 

THE CALL OF THE WILD 

< i X HAVE asked you to visit me for a two- 
I fold reason,’ ’ announced Grace Harlowe 
to her friends of the Overton Unit. “In 
other words, I have a vacation proposal to make 
to you . 7 7 

“Which, translated into plain English, means 
that you wish to lead us into new fields of ad- 
venture,” interjected Emma Dean. 

“Perhaps,” smiled Grace. 

“I suspected as much when I received 
your invitation to come here,” nodded El- 
freda Briggs. 

“Curiosity has taken full possession of me, 
Grace. What is the big idea!” urged Anne 
Nesbit eagerly. 

“So far as I am concerned, no plans have 
11 


12 


GRACE HARLOWE 


been made, ’ ’ replied Grace. ‘ ‘ The original sug- 
gestion may have been mine — that is, the sug- 
gestion that we get together for a real outing. 
From that nucleus, Hippy says he has worked 
out a plan that promises entertainment, health 
and adventure for the jaded Overton girls after 
their strenuous war service. Hippy and Nora 
will be here in a few moments. He will tell you 
all about it.” 

‘ ‘ Dark mystery,” murmured Emma. 

“Let me ask you girls something,” resumed 
Grace. “Since we returned from France, 
where we all did our bit, has each of you been 
perfectly contented with the simple life, well 
content to remain at home without feeling one 
little moment’s yearning to see something stir- 
ring? Search your innermost consciousness 
and tell me what you find there in answer to my 
question. ’ ’ 

For a moment no one essayed an answer; 
then Elfreda spoke up. 

“To be frank with you, Loyalheart, I have 
been perfectly miserable, ’ ’ declared Miss Briggs 
thoughtfully. 

Grace nodded and smiled. 

i ‘ In France, amid the activity and excitement 
of war, not to speak of the peril, I was positive 
that once out of it, once back in my peaceful 
home, I never again should feel the slightest in- 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 13 


clination to wander, ’ ’ continued Elf reda. ‘ ‘ For 
a few months, following my return from the 
war zone, I really was contented, delightfully 
so, luxuriously so, I might say, for I was ‘ living 
the lazy life of Reilley,’ as the doughboys say. 

‘ ‘ Well, finally I awakened from my dream. I 
was restless, ill at ease. While away to war my 
law practice of course had gone to smash. It 
had not met me at the train upon my return, 
either, and the way I felt I didn’t care; but 
upon awakening I realized that what I needed 
was activity. However, the sort of activity 
that my particular ailment demanded was not 
at hand, and I was on the verge of doing some- 
thing desperate when your letter came asking 
me to join our friends at your home to talk over 
a vacation trip. Grace Harlowe, you are a life 
saver. That is the honest-to-goodness truth 
and the whole truth,” finished Elf reda amid 
laughter. 

‘ ‘ That is what I say, or rather what I prob- 
ably should have said had I the eloquence of our 
legal friend, Elf reda Briggs,” bubbled E mm a. 
‘ 1 Give me excitement or I die ! ’ ’ 

Grace glanced at Anne, who nodded and 
smiled. 

“I follow where you lead, Loyalheart,” said 
Anne. “Too bad that the rest of the Unit are 
unable to be with us, but those not otherwise 


14 


GRACE HARLOWE 


engaged are mostly roaming over the face of 
the earth, just as we are proposing to do. By 
the way, what are we to do — where are we to 
go and how?” 

“We are all suffering a reaction from the 
war, but a strenuous few weeks in the open 
surely will settle us down, ’ 7 said Grace. ‘ ‘ There 
come Hippy and Nora. Now you will know 
all about it,” she added, stepping to the ve- 
randa to greet the newcomers. “Welcome, 
Nora Wingate. How are you, Lieutenant?” 

“All present or accounted for,” answered 
Hippy jovially. “Happy to meet you, ladies,” 
he greeted, bowing profoundly as he entered 
the house. “I haven’t been so pleased over 
anything since I downed my first Boche plane 
in France. There, there, Nora darling, don’t 
monopolize the girls. Give your hero husband 
a chance. I take it that you are to join out with 
us in our big mid-summer vacation?” ques- 
tioned Hippy, addressing himself to Emma 
Dean. 

“Are you going to lead the party?” de- 
manded Emma. 

“I may have that honor.” Hippy bowed 
humbly. 

1 ‘ Count me out ! ’ ’ emphasized Emma. 

“No, no, no,” protested Anne and Elfreda 
laughingly. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 15 


“Before jumping at conclusions perhaps it 
would be as well for us to listen to Lieuten- 
ant Wingate’s plan,” suggested Grace, rising. 
“Dinner is being served. Come ! We can talk 
while we eat, ’ 9 she added, leading the way to the 
dining room whose windows overlooked the 
sloping green lawns of Grace Harlowe’s much- 
loved home. 

Elfreda, Anne and Emma had, within the 
hour, arrived at Haven Home where Grace had 
been living quietly and restfully since her re- 
turn from France, in which country she and 
her friends of the Overton Unit had been serv- 
ing with the Red Cross during the closing year 
of the war. 

Grace’s husband, Captain Tom Gray, was 
still in Russia where he had been sent from 
France on a military mission, and Yvonne, her 
adopted daughter, was a pupil in a private 
school in New England, so she felt free to invite 
the girls of her Unit to join with her in a sum- 
mer’s outing that would offer both recreation 
and adventure. 

Anne Nesbit, Elfreda Briggs and Emma 
Dean were the only members of the Unit who 
had not already made their plans for the sum- 
mer. 

While Grace would have been pleased to have 
all the girls of the Overton Unit join in her pro- 


16 


GRACE HARLOWE 


posed outing, she was just as well pleased that 
her invitation had not been more generally ac- 
cepted. The present party was of about the 
right size, as she reasoned it. Then again, the 
members of the party had been close associates 
for many years ; they had shared their girlhood 
joys and sorrows; they had suffered together 
in those desperate days in France when it 
seemed to them that the very universe were 
rending itself asunder, and from all this had 
been born a better understanding of each other 
and a greater love and respect. 

It was, therefore, a happy gathering that sat 
down to dinner in Grace Harlowe’s Oakdale 
home on that balmy mid-summer afternoon. 
For a time there was chatter and laughter, the 
reviving of old college and war memories, inter- 
mingled with occasional chaffing of Hippy Win- 
gate, always a shining mark for the Overton 
girls’ teasing. 

“ Girls,” finally announced Grace, ‘ 6 Hippy 
has a dark secret locked in his heart, to be 
brought to light only when we girls are pres- 
ent. * 1 

“I could see the moment he came in that he 
had,” interrupted Elfreda. “ Hippy always 
was a poor dissembler.” 

“Yes, that’s what Nora says,” replied Hippy 
sheepishly. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 17 


‘ ‘ I believe that yon girls are not all aware of 
the fact that Hippy is now a man of affairs,” 
resumed Grace. “ Therefore, his words must 
be given weight accordingly. Hippy, being too 
modest to tell you about it himself, I would have 
you all know that, upon his return from the war, 
he found himself a rich man, following the death 
of a wealthy uncle who was so proud of our Fly- 
ing Lieutenant’s great achievements in the war 
that he left Hippy all his worldly possessions. 
Our Hippy, it is rumored, is now lying awake 
nights trying to devise new ways to spend his 
fortune.” 

“No, no, nothing like that,” protested Hippy 
Wingate, with a disapproving shake of the head. 
“What I really am trying to figure out is how 
not to spend it — that is, not all at once. Of 
course, so far as my dear friends are concerned, 
that is another matter,” added Hippy quite 
seriously. 

“My ancestors originated in Missouri. You 
will have to demonstrate,” observed Emma 
Dean amid much laughter. 

“What we are at the moment most interested 
in is the dark secret. You have something to 
say to us,” reminded Miss Briggs. 

“Yes, Hippy, do not keep us in suspense,” 
urged Grace. 

“Go on, darling. They will walk out and 

2 Grace Harlowe on Apache Trail 


18 


GRACE HARLOWE 


leave you if you don’t start pretty soon,” 
warned Nora. 

“Ahem!” began Lieutenant Wingate. 

“Are you going to make a speech?” de- 
manded Emma apprehensively. 

“What I am about to say will answer your 
question. Grace has been suggesting that this 
outfit get together and spend the latter part of 
the summer in the open. That set my brain in 
operation.” 

“Your what?” interrupted Emma. 

Grace laughed merrily, and then begged 
Hippy’s pardon. 

“Upon my return from the war,” resumed 
Hippy, unheeding the interruption, “my friend, 
Captain Jamieson, of the State Constabulary, 
asked me to volunteer to serve in the troop with 
him on strike duty. I did so. Girls, you have 
no idea of the joy I found in ‘packing leather,’ 
as the horsemen call it — horseback riding. 
After that experience with the troop, when 
Grace was speaking about an outing in the open, 
it occurred to me that the Overton Unit might 
work off its surplus energy in the saddle, and 
at the same time have a glorious outing. Brown 
Eyes, tell them of your experience in the 
saddle.” 

Grace related how, after having been made an 
honorary member of the troop, she had taken 


ON THE OLD APACHE TEAIL 19 


up horseback riding and what a wonderful reve- 
lation it had been to her. 

“Take my word for it, too, Brown Eyes al- 
ready is as fine a rider as there is in the troop. 
The captain says she is a natural born horse- 
woman/ ’ declared Hippy with enthusiasm. 
“Even my Nora promises that, hereafter, rid- 
ing horseback is to be her own principal recre- 
ation. How many of you girls ride ? ’ ’ 

Elfreda and Anne said they had ridden some 
when younger, but not recently. Emma Dean 
owned a pony, she said, but had not been on its 
back in more than two years. 

“Good!” exclaimed Lieutenant Wingate. 
“You all at least know how to stick on leather, 
so we will proceed to the next stage of the jour- 
ney. My great secret is no longer a secret. 
You already know what I am about to propose. 
Do you girls wish to join out with us for a 
month or so in the saddle?” 

“To go where?” questioned Elfreda. 

“That is for us girls to decide upon,” inter- 
jected Grace. “The first question to be settled 
is, who will go ? ” 

“All in favor of taking a horseback trip say 
‘aye’; contrary ‘no/ ” cried Hippy. 

The answer was a chorus of ayes. 

“The ayes have it! We go,” announced the 
lieutenant, smiling his pleasure at the decision. 


20 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“Have you a suggestion to offer as to where 
we might go V ’ asked Anne. 

“It was my thought that we might tour New 
England,” answered the lieutenant. 

“New England ! 1 9 cried Emma D ean. 1 1 There 
isn't any fun in doing that. When I go out for 
adventure I wish the real thing. Adventure in 
N e w England ! Huh ! It hasn ’t existed in N ew 
England since the Indians put down an arrow 
barrage on the Pilgrim Fathers. You will 
have to think of something more exciting than 
New England if you expect me to go with you.” 

“Where do we get the saddle horses?” was 
Elf reda's query. 

“Hippy will arrange for that,” Grace in- 
formed her. “I agree with Emma that, so long 
as we are going out for adventure, we should 
get as far from the beaten paths as possible. 
Roughing it in the real meaning of the term is 
what we girls need. ’ ' 

“That is what I say,” cried Emma. “No 
weak lemonade trips for me. Give me a wild 
west or give me an automobile . 9 9 

“I am certain that Loyalheart has a sugges- 
tion to offer,” said Miss Briggs, nodding in 
Graced direction. 

“ Yes, I have, ’ 9 admitted Grace. 4 4 My advice 
is that we adopt Emma’s suggestion and go 
west. Speaking for myself, there is one place 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 21 


out there that always has held a great fascina- 
tion for me. I refer to the Old Apache Trail in 
Arizona. From what I have read of that part 
of the country, one should be able to find ad- 
venture in a horseback journey over the old 
trail. Going so far by train, before we start 
with horses, will make it rather an expensive 
trip, but I do not believe it will be beyond our 
means.’ ’ 

Emma’s eyes widened. 

“Indians? Are there Indians there?” 

“Every bush hides a lurking Apache,” Lieu- 
tenant Wingate gravely informed her. 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Emma under her breath. 

“I do not believe it is quite so alarming as 
that, ’ ’ laughed Grace. ‘ ‘ Even though there are 
Indians, we probably shall not be troubled by 
them. Are there any further suggestions, 
girls?” 

“The Apache Trail sounds interesting to 
me, ’ ’ admitted Anne. 

“Both interesting and alarming,” averred 
Elfreda. “However, we know from past ex- 
periences that trouble always goes hand in hand 
with Grace Harlowe, so we are fully prepared 
in advance for whatever may come to us. What 
do we take with us, and how are we to dress?” 

“It has occurred to me that we can wear our 
old army uniforms, without insignia,” replied 


22 


GRACE HARLOWE 


Grace. “They will be appropriate for riding, 
but we should wear campaign hats in place of 
our overseas caps. Such changes of clothing 
as we shall require can be carried in our 
steamer trunks which we will send ahead by ex- 
press. My advice is not to carry any finery. 
Let us keep in the simple atmosphere at all 
times, bearing in mind that this will not be a 
Pullman car outing after we reach our starting 
point. How soon can you girls be ready V 9 

Elfreda said she would be prepared to leave 
in about ten days, having some office legal mat- 
ters to clear up before going away. The others 
said they could be ready in even less time than 
that, so it was decided that they should meet at 
Oakdale for the start for the west on August 
first. Hippy, in the meantime, would, so far as 
possible, arrange by correspondence for the 
horses they were to ride, and for such equip- 
ment as had to do with his part in the prepara- 
tions. 

The following few days were busy ones for 
all, between riding horseback, taking short gal- 
lops out into the country on such mounts as 
they could find at livery stables, and planning 
for their vacation in the saddle. On these 
rides, Hippy and Grace taught the others such 
riding points as they had learned in their riding 
experiences, all save Emma quickly adapting 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 23 


themselves to the saddle, so that the week’s 
vacation at Haven Home lengthened to twelve 
days before Elfreda and Emma entrained for 
home. Anne remained with Grace, there being 
no reason why she should return home, as her 
husband, still in the service of his country, was 
on the other side of the Atlantic. 

In the intervening days before the start for 
the west, Hippy corresponded by wire and let- 
ter, with the postmaster at Globe, Arizona, who 
informed the lieutenant that there were two 
stock farms near that place, where mounts suit- 
able for the Overton girls’ needs might be pur- 
chased or hired at reasonable prices. It was 
decided, however, that no definite arrangement 
for horses should be made until Hippy had had 
opportunity to look them over, with all the girls 
present to approve of his selection. 

Grace, having completed most of her prepara- 
tions for their outing, now made a brief journey 
to the city to visit Yvonne at her school, return- 
ing home in time to welcome Elfreda and Emma, 
who arrived at Oakdale looking trim and pretty 
in their new tailor-made serge traveling suits. 
Grace looked her two friends over critically on 
their arrival. 

“Becoming, but not quite suitable for horse- 
back riding,” she observed, referring to their 
costumes. 


24 


GRACE HARLOWE 


‘ 1 Our riding suits are in our steamer trunks, ’ ’ 
explained Elfreda. “I know — you said we 
were not to take any finery along, but surely, 
while traveling on a train we should wear some- 
thing other than our uniforms.” 

Grace admitted that perhaps this would be 
advisable, and decided that the party would be 
less conspicuous in traveling clothes. 

It was a merry company at Haven Home that 
evening, the eve of the Overton girls’ departure 
for the west on what, each one instinctively felt, 
was destined to be an eventful journey. Sev- 
eral neighbors came in and there was music, 
with Irish songs by Nora, a characteristic 
speech from the lips of Lieutenant Wingate, 
followed by dancing, refreshments and much 
chatter, until a late hour. 

After the neighbors had said their good-byes 
the Overton girls put the finishing touches to 
their packing and closed their trunks. 

“To be opened when we reach Arizona,” an- 
nounced Grace, placing her trunk key in her 
purse, smiling at her friends with that rare 
smile that so attracted people to her. 

Quite a party was at the station to see the 
outfit off next morning, though naturally the 
crowd was neither so great nor so boisterous as 
when, upon her arrival home from the war, 
Grace Harlowe had been literally carried from 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 25 


the train to her home, a heroine, not in theory, 
but in fact, as the crosses of war of two nations, 
pinned to her blouse, bore evidence. 

Farewells were waved from car windows, the 
tall maples and spreading elms of Haven Home 
melted into the distance as the journey toward 
the setting sun was begun. 

“Somehow I have a feeling that this vacation 
of ours is not to be an unalloyed sweet sum- 
mer’s dream,” sighed Elfreda Briggs, settling 
herself resignedly for the journey. 


CHAPTER II 

ON" THE OVERLAND COACH 

‘ 6 H, GIRLS, I’ve made a perfectly mar- 
I f velous discovery,” cried Grace Har- 
lowe as she burst into the parlor of 
the hotel at Globe, Arizona, on the morning fol- 
lowing their arrival from the east. 

“Which means, watch your step, Overton 
Unit,” reminded Elfreda Briggs. “What is 
the nature of your discovery, a long lost brother 
or something of that sort!” 

“My discovery is a genuine old Deadwood 
stagecoach,” Grace informed her companions. 


26 


GRACE HARLOWE 


Elfreda regarded her narrowly. 

“Our Flying Lieutenant, Hippy Wingate, is 
examining it now to see if it is really fit for 
use , 9 9 continued Grace with no abatement of her 
enthusiasm. 

“A Deadwood stagecoach V 9 wondered Emma 
Dean. 

“That is the kind of coach they used in the 
old stagecoach days of the early west , 9 9 Elfreda 
Briggs explained. 

“ Eh ? The kind that the bandits used to hold 
up, and rob the passengers? That husband of 
mine used to read all about it when he was a 
youngster. He declares that had the war not 
come along when it did, he might have been a 
bandit himself / 9 asserted Nora Wingate. 
“What does he want to look over that old stage- 
coach for?” she demanded suspiciously. 

“Hippy is thinking of taking a ride in it,” 
smiled Grace. “Listen to me, girls ! I will tell 
you what Hippy and I have to suggest.” 

“It is about time,” muttered Elfreda. 

“The suggestion is,” resumed Grace, “that 
we girls take a trip in the Deadwood coach, say 
out as far as the Apache Lodge on the trail. 
There is no reason why we should not, at least, 
make a night drive, say up to about midnight, 
go into camp for a few hours 9 sleep, and then 
drive back to Globe in the early morning. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 27 


Should we like the coaching well enough we can 
go on and do the entire hundred and twenty 
miles of the Old Apache Trail in that way.” 

“This is all very well, but what about the 
ponies that the lieutenant has hired for the ride 
over the trail?” questioned Anne. 

“We can have the ponies led through to 
Phoenix and ride them back, camping along the 
way back for the rest of our vacation,” replied 
Grace. “Hippy will arrange that matter, and 
make a deal with the stagecoach owner after he 
has carefully looked the old wagon over to make 
certain that it will go through the trip without 
falling apart.” 

“You think it will be a perfectly safe thing 
to do, do you, Grace?” questioned Elfreda 
Briggs. 

“Yes, if the stagecoach holds together,” an- 
swered Grace smilingly. 

“If!” muttered J. Elfreda under her breath. 

“But, Grace, suppose a band of bad men hold 
us up and rob us?” urged Emma apprehen- 
sively. 

“No danger whatever, my dear. Those days 
have passed in the great west, as have the sav- 
age Apaches of olden time, though the trip will 
take us over the ground on which they fought 
many fierce battles. Ah! Here comes Hippy 
now. How about it, Lieutenant?” 


28 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“All set, Brown Eyes. The owner of the 
stagecoach says he has a new set of wheels that 
he will put on, as the old ones would not stand 
up under the load we shall have. Otherwise, 
the old rattler is good for many a journey over 
the trail. I think the owner got a good idea 
from us, and that he will make the Deadwood 
stagecoach trip a regular attraction for tour- 
ists. What do you say, girls ? ’ ’ 

“Grace is the one to say,” averred Elfreda. 
“On our journey out here you will remember 
that we decided she should be our captain. I 
may have my doubts about the advisability of 
the proposed coaching trip, but I will agree to 
it with a certain mental reservation. Alors! 
Let’s go!” 

“Have you seen the owner of the ponies?” 
asked Grace, turning to Lieutenant Wingate. 

Hippy nodded. 

“He doesn’t care what we do, so long as he 
gets his money.” 

“When will the stagecoach be ready?” ques- 
tioned Grace. 

“Within an hour, if you decide to make the 
trip. ’ ’ 

“That is all very well, so far as it goes,” ob- 
served Nora Wingate. “What I wish to ask is 
how are we going to sleep and eat?” 

“We shall take with us twenty-four hours’ 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 29 


rations and a small tent, which can be carried 
on the roof of the stagecoach. Hippy can 
sleep on the floor of the coach and we girls 
will sleep in the tent, ’ ’ Grace informed her com- 
panions. 

“Any old place is good enough for Hippy/ ’ 
complained Lieutenant Wingate. 

“A man like yourself, who has slept on a 
cloud, hovering over the German lines on the 
French front, ought not to complain about hav- 
ing to sleep on nice, soft blankets on the floor of 
a stagecoach, ’ ’ teased Grace . 

“Who’s complaining?” retorted Hippy. 
“What is the verdict?” 

“Unless there are objections which argument 
cannot overcome, I shall decide for taking the 
stagecoach,” announced Grace. 

“Ladies, please give voice to your prefer- 
ences, and be quick about it,” urged Hippy. 

The vote was unanimous for the stage- 
coach. 

“Brown Eyes, will you attend to getting the 
food?” he asked. 

“Yes, with Nora’s assistance. We will go 
shopping at once, Nora dear. Hippy, please 
tell the stagecoach man that we will take the 
coach, and that we shall be ready to leave at 
four o’clock this afternoon. Please see that the 
A tent is shipped aboard our craft. By the way, 


30 


GRACE HARLOWE 


what does he propose to charge us for the trip 
out and hack! ” 

44 Twenty dollars/ ’ replied Hippy. Lieuten- 
ant Wingate added, that, if Grace would give 
him a memorandum of exactly what she wished 
to carry along, he would get the equipment to- 
gether at once. 

4 4 I will do that now, ’ ’ replied Grace. 4 4 Upon 
reflection, I would suggest that you tell the 
man who owns the ponies we have hired, to hold 
the animals here, as we shall be back here to- 
morrow. I have about decided that one night 
with the stagecoach will give us all the thrills 
we are looking for in that direction. Anyway, we 
are out here to ride horseback, so you girls must 
not look too hard for comfort in your surround- 
ings. Riding in this part of the country is 
work, and you will discover that it is not at all 
like galloping about a ring in a riding academy 
or pleasant jaunts through shady country 
lanes.” 

4 4 Or a trip in a luxurious automobile, ’ ’ sug- 
gested Elfreda. 

4 4 Or a flight into the blue in a plane,” added 
Hippy. 4 4 Give me the air every time, the free- 
dom of the skies, the azure and the birds and 
the—” 

44 Look out! Your motor is going to stall,” 
warned Emma Dean amid general laughter. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 31 


“I agree with you,” nodded Elfreda. 

Lieutenant Wingate went out laughing and 
chuckling to himself, and after his departure 
Grace assigned their duties to each of the girls, 
then herself started out with Nora to purchase 
supplies. These consisted of a small quantity 
of canned goods, potatoes, bacon, coffee, and 
salt and pepper, with a few other odds and 
ends, all of which Grace ordered done up in a 
large package and delivered to the stagecoach 
man. The purchases were quickly made and 
within a very short time Grace and Nora were 
back at the hotel. 

“Does the drosky drive up to the hotel for 
us?” greeted Emma Dean, as the two girls en- 
tered. 

“It does not. I should not care to make our 
outfit so conspicuous as that,” rebuked Grace. 

4 ‘ Oh, fiddlesticks ! What is the use of making 
a splurge when there is no one to see it? ” grum- 
bled Emma. 

“Wurra, child!” cried Irish Nora. “This 
is no traveling show for the benefit of the 
natives. ’ * 

“Nora is perfectly right,” agreed Grace. 
“We are here for our own enjoyment, and, 
though perhaps we may be a show in ourselves, 
we do not propose to perform for the edifica- 
tion of the public if we can avoid it. ’ ’ 


32 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“What is this I hear about a show?” cried 
J. Elfreda, at that moment entering the hotel 
parlor with Anne. 

Nora explained that Emma wished to drive 
away in style. 

“Wait! Just wait, Emma, until we return 
from this trip of ours. If we do not show the 
Globites something new in styles after we have 
passed through the refining influences of the 
Apache Trail, I shall admit that I am not a 
prophetess,” laughed Elfreda. “I just now 
saw Hippy with his coat off working on that 
old ark, that he calls a stagecoach, before an 
admiring audience of natives. He was making 
himself conspicuous. Are we expected to trust 
life and limb to that ancient craft, Grace Har- 
lowe ? 9 ’ 

“We are and we shall,” answered Grace. 

“Then I think those of you who have prop- 
erty had better make your wills before embark- 
ing. Nora, this applies especially to you and 
Hippy who so recently have come into a fortune. 
Grace made her will before going overseas to 
drive an ambulance on the French front, but 
Emma, having spent all her money on finery, 
had no need to make a will. ’ ’ 

“How about yourself?” questioned Grace 
teasingly. 

“I am merely a struggling young lawyeress 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 33 


who isn’t supposed to have money to will, and 
who most assuredly has no clients to pay her 
any. Isn’t it about time for luncheon?” 

Grace said it was, but that they were waiting 
for Hippy so that all might sit down together. 

Lieutenant Wingate came in shortly after 
that, covered with dirt, and a beauty spot on 
one cheek. 

“You are a sight, Hippy Wingate,” chided 
Grace. “How did you get yourself in such a 
condition ? ’ ’ 

“Helping the man grease the wagon.” 

“You go right up to our room and make your- 
self fit to sit down with civilized persons,” 
ordered Nora. “I am ashamed to own you as 
my husband. ’ ’ 

“Isn’t that a fine way to order around a fel- 
low who has fought the Boche on high, and who 
will go down in history as a brave air fighter?” 
teased Anne. 

“Some husbands have to be ordered. Mine 
is one of them,” answered Nora, giving Hippy’s 
ear a tweak. “Now run along, little man.” 

Hippy kissed Nora and ran upstairs laughing 
to himself. Nora’s scolding did not even pene- 
trate skin deep with Lieutenant Wingate, nor 
did she intend that it should. 

Soon after that the Overton College girls 
filed into the dining room where a number of 

S Grace Earlowe on Apache Trail 


34 


GRACE HARLOWE 


tourists were having luncheon. The girls, in 
their overseas uniforms, attracted attention at 
once, many of the guests having been told who 
the young women, with the tanned faces and 
familiar uniforms, were. The guests also had 
been informed that the man with the party was 
Lieutenant Wingate, a noted American air 
tighter who stood high up in the list of those 
who had downed more than twenty enemy 
planes. 

As she took her seat at the table, Grace bowed 
smilingly to two ladies who had come in on the 
train with them that morning. 

“ Girls, what shall we eat!” she asked. 

“Speaking for myself as a modest person, I 
think I shall begin at the top of the menu and 
eat my way all the way down to the bottom/ ’ 
observed Hippy solemnly amid the laughter of 
the others. 

Luncheon finished, the party went out sight- 
seeing, and for a look at the ponies that Hippy 
had hired for the trip over the Old Apache 
Trail, on which journey they would have started 
on the following morning had Grace not chanced 
to discover the old Headwood stagecoach. 

At three o’clock that afternoon the party of 
Overton girls loaded their belongings, such as 
would be needed for a twenty-four hour jaunt, 
into an automobile, and drove to the stable 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 35 


where the stage driver, Ike Fairweather by 
name, was preparing to harness np the four 
horses that were to draw the coach. 

Hippy removed his coat and assisted in the 
operations, while the girls inspected the stage- 
coach and stowed away their belongings. 

Emma’s nose went up ever so little when she 
peered into the interior of the vehicle, observ- 
ing the old rickety wooden seats, the tattered 
curtains and the cracks in the warped flooring. 

“If this old ark lasts until we get out of town, 
I am no prophet,” she declared. “What if it 
breaks down?” 

“We can walk, just as some of us have had to 
do in France when an ambulance went out of 
commission,” answered Grace laughingly. She 
then placed blankets on the hardwood seats and 
packed their provisions underneath. 

By this time Ike was hooking up the four 
horses. That he was an experienced man 
Grace saw after observing him critically for a 
few moments, and she was certain that they 
could safely trust themselves to his driving. 

“I have a lurking idea that the girls of this 
outfit are in for a ride that they will not soon 
forget, even though things look favorable, * ’ she 
thought, smiling to herself. 

“Grace Harlowe, what are you laughing at?” 
demanded Anne. 


36 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“I was thinking of something very, very 
funny, * ’ replied Grace. 

“Let me in on the joke, please / 7 begged 
Emma. 

“Not now. Perhaps later on.” 

Elfreda regarded her frowningly. 

“If you play any tricks on us, Loyalheart, 
you will be sorry, ’ * warned Miss Briggs. 

“How can you even suggest such a thing?” 
cried Grace. “Did you ever know me to play 
pranks on my friends?” 

“There have been occasions when suspicions 
assumed real shapes in my mind,” retorted El- 
freda. 

“See to it that this is not one of those occa- 
sions. I believe we are about ready to make 
our start. Mr. Fairweather, where is there a 
good place for us to make camp to-night? I do 
not think we should try to make the Lodge this 
evening. All we desire is to take the coach into 
the mountains, make camp, and come back in 
the early morning. It doesn’t matter whether 
or not we go so far as the Lodge.” 

“Squaw Valley or just beyond I reckon is as 
good as any place on the trail,” observed the 
driver, reflectively stroking his whiskers. 

“How far is that from here — I mean Squaw 
Valley?” 

“Nigh onto thirty mile, I reckon.” 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 37 


“That, I think, will be about as much of a 
trip as my companions can stand, so we will 
say Squaw Valley, or the next available point. 
I leave the selection of the camping place to 
your judgment. What time do you think we 
shall reach the Valley ?” 

“ ’Bout ten o’clock. Have to go slow when 
we get into the hills, an’ we bump ’em right 
smart after leavin’ Globe. Sharp turns and 
narrow trail in spots, but it ain’t much like the 
days when I driv a coach an’ four in the hills 
an’ carried the mail an’ kep’ a weather eye out 
for bandits. Since then them buzz wagons has 
took all the starch out of livin’. Ever drive 
one ? ’ ’ 

“I drove an ambulance at the front for nearly 
a year of the war,” answered Grace quietly. 

“You don’t say?” Ike regarded the slender 
figure of the young Overton girl, his gaze 
finally coming to rest on her well-tanned face. 
“Come to look you over, you’ve got a mighty 
steady eye an’ a good jaw. I’ve seen thet kind 
before an’ sometimes behind a gun. Thet kind 
is fine till you get them riled, then look out for 
the lightnin’. Where you goin’ to ride?” 

“Outside with you until we reach Squaw 
Valley, if I may,” answered Grace smilingly. 

“Glad to have you. All aboard thet’s 
goin ’ ! ” 


38 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“ Please get in with the girls, Hippy. Later 
on yon and I will change seats, if that will suit 
you,” said Grace. 

The lieutenant stood aside until the four girls 
were safely stowed away in the stagecoach, 
Grace, in the meantime, having swung herself 
up to the front seat with the driver. The door 
slammed, Ike cracked his whip, and the coach 
started with a jolt that brought strong protest 
from the passengers down below. 

“Hey there, you!” shouted Hippy, thrusting 
his head out. “I haven’t got my safety belt 
on, so don’t take off like that again or you will 
throw me out. ’ ’ 

“Hang on, Lieutenant!” urged Grace, her 
laughing eyes peering over the edge of the 
coach into the red, perspiring face of Hippy 
Wingate. ‘ ‘ That is the way I had to do when I 
went flying with you in France. If you will 
recall, you said yesterday that you must have 
excitement. I am simply providing it for you, 
and I have an idea you will get all you wish by 
the time we have done with this journey.” 

The lieutenant drew in his head and they 
heard nothing more from him for some time. 

The Deadwood stagecoach swept out with a 
rattle and a clatter and a groaning in every 
joint, that aroused the apprehension, not only 
of its passengers, but of persons on the streets 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 39 


who paused to see the outfit wheel past them* 
the four horses at a brisk trot. 

Leaving the town quickly behind them, the 
stagecoach swept out into the open. The smoke 
of the Old Dominion and Inquisition smelting 
furnaces hung gray against the sky, but the 
Overton girls were soon past the tall black 
buildings of cooling copper, riding away toward 
the west at a pace that caused the stagecoach 
to complain even more bitterly than before. 

It was to be a mere outing, a jaunt in an his- 
toric old stagecoach, over an equally historic 
trail, but that was all, so far as Grace Harlowe 
and her friends had planned it. What the 
“jaunt” developed into was an exciting ad- 
venture, which had in it all the elements of a 
real tragedy. Grace already was glorying in 
the fresh air, the roll of the vehicle under her, 
and the uncertainty of what the next moment 
held for her. 

“Will our wagon stand a lively run down the 
grade?” she questioned, as they topped a rise 
and she saw a stretch of about half a mile of 
trail falling away and disappearing in the valley 
below them. 

“I reckon it will,” grinned the driver. 

“How about the horses?” 

1 1 Thet ’s all right. Don ’t you worry ’bout the 
nags, Miss.” 


40 


GRACE HARLOWE 


‘ ‘ Then shake them out. Let’s stir up those 
people in the coach and show them what rid- 
ing in a Deadwood stagecoach really means,” 
eagerly urged Grace Harlowe. 

Ike did. He gave the reins a shake and 
cracked the long-lashed whip that sounded to 
Grace like the report of a pistol. 

The horses responded instantly, starting 
down the steep grade at a lively gallop, accom- 
panied by encouraging yelps from Ike Fair- 
weather. 

“Thet’s the way we driv when we thought 
the Redskins was after us,” he called to Grace 
without turning his head. 

Twenty seconds later the coach was rolling 
like a ship in a heavy sea, accompanied by a 
medley of shrieks and shouts of protest from 
the jumbled cargo of passengers inside. 

“Faster! Faster, Mr. Fairweather, ” urged 
Grace. 

Ike’s yelps grew louder and closer together, 
and the gallop of the four-horse team became 
a run. About this time the occupants on the in- 
side of the coach, having reached the limit of 
their endurance, registered a violent protest. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 41 


CHAPTER III 

A THRILLING HALT 

4 4 TT up there ! Cut the gun ! ’ ’ bellowed 
I I the voice of Hippy Wingate, using an 
aviator’s term for shutting off the 
power. “Stop it, I say! You will have us all 
in the ditch!” 

Grace grinned at Ike and Ike grinned at his 
team. Neither made any reply to Hippy’s wail 
of distress. Grace’s hat was now off, her hair 
was blowing in the wind, and her eyes were 
snapping. 

“Oh, that was glorious, Mr. Fairweather, ” 
she cried as the stagecoach reached the bottom 
of the grade and lurched around a sharp curve 
on two wheels, a proceeding that brought an- 
other series of shrieks from the occupants of 
the coach. 

Hippy was still protesting and threatening, 
then suddenly Grace and Ike were startled at 
hearing the lieutenant’s voice close behind them, 
right at their ears, it seemed. 

Grace turned and found herself looking into 
the flushed face of Hippy Wingate whose head 


42 


GRACE HARLOWE 


and shoulders were above the top of the coach. 
He was standing on the window sill of the door 
and clinging to the edge of the roof of the stage- 
coach. 

“Get down, Hippy! You will be thrown off 
and hurt,” begged Grace. 

“I can’t be any worse injured than I am now 
after being played football with inside of this 
old box. What’s the matter? Isn’t there a 
brake on this bundle of junk?” 

“I don’t know. Sorry, but I thought you 
might enjoy a few sideslips to remind you of 
France. Please stop, Mr. Fairweather. He 
will break his neck if he tries to get down while 
we are in motion. 

Ike applied the brake and pulled up the horses, 
whereupon Hippy sprang down to the trail and 
swung aboard again. 

“If you do that again I’ll walk,” was his 
parting threat. 

“How’d you like it, Miss?” grinned the 
driver. 

1 1 Splendid ! I have not had such an exciting 
ride since one time when I was racing with my 
ambulance in France to clear ^ cross-roads 
ahead of a shell that was on the way there, ’ ’ de- 
clared Grace. 

“I was goin’ to ask you ’bout the war. You 
must have seen some big ones — big shells?” 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 43 


“Many of them.” 

“Never got hit, did you?” 

“I was wounded three times.” 

“You don’t say!” Ike gazed at her with 
new interest. “Was he in the war, too?” re- 
ferring to Hippy. 

“Yes, as an aviator, and fought many battles 
in the air. All the young women who are with 
us on this drive also saw service in the war 
zone in France. They were a part of the Over- 
ton College Unit that went overseas for the 
Red Cross.” 

“Must have been purty bad business, thet.” 

“It was, but I would not have missed it for 
anything. Did many men from your city go to 
the war?” 

Ike nodded. 

“Some didn’t come back, neither. S’pose 
your ambulance got hit once, anyway?” 

“I lost four cars during the time I was driv- 
ing. Two were blown up and the others were 
wrecked in accidents,” Grace informed her com- 
panion on the driver’s seat. “My husband is 
still in the service. He is now in Russia where 
he was sent after the armistice was signed.” 

“Your husband? You don’t say! I wouldn’t 
think it. Why, you don’t look like more’n a 
school girl. I’ll bet he’d like to be here right 
this minute.” 


44 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“And I’ll bet I should like to have him here, 
too,” answered Grace smilingly. “Do you 
think we shall be able to stir up any excitement 
on the trail? We propose to do the entire jour- 
ney on our ponies, you know, starting the day 
after to-morrow.” 

“Mebby, mebby,” reflected Ike. 

“Are there any Apaches left in the moun- 
tains?” questioned Grace. 

“Yes. Too many of ’em.” 

“Friendly?” 

“Sometimes when they want to beg or steal 
somethin’ from you. Don’t trust ’em, Miss. 
An Indian’s an Indian, ’specially when he’s an 
Apache. They’d do a heap lot more than they 
do if they dared. Can you shoot ? ’ ’ 

“Some,” admitted Grace. 

“I’ll bet you’re a dead shot. If them eyes 
was behind a gun thet was pinted at me, I’d 
put up my hands without bein’ asked a second 
time.” 

“Were you ever held up by bandits?” asked 
Grace, eager to get the old stagecoach driver 
started talking of his experiences. 

“Regular thing in the old days.” 

“What did you do in those emergencies?” 

“Ginerally put up my paws when I was in- 
vited to. Such fellows can shoot and most al- 
ways does.” 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 45 


“But, Mr. Fairweatker, did your passengers 
never venture to defend themselves ?” 

“Once a man did. He’s down there now, 
near where we’re goin’ to stop for chuck — in 
Squaw Valley.” 

“He was not quick enough? Is that it, sir?” 

“You said it. Was the Germans quick on 
the trigger?” 

“Their sharpshooters were very quick. 
Good shots, too, all of them, but our sharpshoot- 
ers could beat them at stalking. You know our 
boys like to fight Indian style, while the German 
fights by rule and orders. ’ ’ 

The driver nodded his understanding, and be- 
gan admonishing the off-wheel horse who was 
using his heels rather too freely. 

“Thet critter would run away if I give him 
half a show, ’ ’ grinned Ike. 

‘ ‘ Of course if he were to do that and turn the 
coach over, you could not help yourself, could 
you, Mr. Fairweather?” questioned Grace inno- 
cently. 

Ike gave her a quick sidelong glance, but 
Grace Harlowe’s face was guileless. 

“I b’lieve you’d like to have him run away,” 
he chuckled. 

“Oh, no, nothing like that, sir. My friends 
might get hurt. Otherwise, I should not mind 
it at all.” 


46 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“You shore are a queer one,” muttered Ike. 
“Over beyond the rise you see ahead is Squaw 
Valley. Good water there and fine place to 
have chuck. How much further do you reckon 
on goin’?” 

“I was about to suggest that you decide that. 
If we ride until ten o’clock it will be late 
enough. I imagine, too, that our friends in the 
coach will have had enough of it by then. After 
leaving the Valley, if we decide to go further, I 
will go inside, giving Lieutenant Wingate an 
opportunity to ride outside with you. Perhaps 
you may be able to induce him to tell you how 
he fought the Huns above the clouds. I know 
you will enjoy hearing of it from a man who has 
fought that way.” 

“Shore, I would. Never was a prisoner over 
there, was you?” asked Ike. 

“Yes, the Boches got me once and sent me to 
a prison camp, but I made my escape. They 
came near getting me twice after that. ’ 9 

“Huh! Got a family?” Ike was determined 
to get all the information he could. He had 
been doing it for years from the passengers who 
rode with him on top of the stage. 

“If you mean children, I have a daughter, an 
adopted French girl. I found her in a deserted 
French village one night, the village at the time 
being under heavy artillery fire. I adopted the 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 47 


little one later, and she is now at school back 
east. Isn’t that Squaw Valley?” asked Grace, 
pointing. 

“Thet’s her.” 

A few moments later the stagecoach drew out 
to one side of the trail and stopped. 

“All out for mess,” cried Grace, springing 
to the ground. “How do you folks feel after 
that delightful ride?” 

“Ride, did you call it?” demanded Hippy 
Wingate, getting out laboriously and limping 
about to take the kinks out of his legs. “It’s 
worse than hitting one of those humpy white 
clouds with an airplane.” 

“Grace Harlowe, I believe you gave us that 
shaking up on purpose,” accused Elfreda 
Briggs. 

The others voiced their protests in no uncer- 
tain manner. 

“You will forget all about it after we have 
made tea and cooked our bacon,” comforted 
Grace, neither admitting nor denying the ac- 
cusation. “There is nothing like a good shak- 
ing up to accelerate one ’s appetite . 9 ’ 

Under Grace Harlowe ’s skillful hands a little 
fire was soon flickering beside the trail, the 
driver eyeing the blaze with approval ; then the 
Overton girls got briskly to work preparing 
the supper. 


48 


GRACE HARLOWE 


‘ i Where ’d you learn to make an Indian cook- 
fire f ’ ’ demanded Ike. 

“My husband taught me. He is a forester, 
you know, ’ ’ replied Grace. 

‘ 4 Know how to make a lean-to f 9 9 

“Oh, yes, sir.” 

“You’ll do. No tenderfoot ’bout you. 
Reckon I’ll fetch water for the folks and horses 
now. ” 

The party ate sitting on the ground, Ike’s 
interest during the meal being divided between 
Grace Harlowe and Lieutenant Wingate. They 
were the first real heroes that he had ever 
known, and he proposed to make the most of his 
opportunity. 

“Well, Mr. Fairweather, shall we go on?” 
asked Grace after they had finished the meal. 

“Reckon so. Better camping ground fur- 
ther on.” 

Equipment was quickly packed away and Ike 
hooked up for the start, but before leaving, 
Hippy Wingate and Elfreda issued a solemn 
warning that there was to be no more speeding. 

The night, now upon them, was moonless, but 
the stars shed a faint light on the trail causing 
it to stand out dimly for a short distance ahead 
of them, save here and there, where overhang- 
ing rocks threw it into a deep shadow. It was 
an ideal night for traveling, cool but invigor- 


ON THE OLD APACHE TEAIL 49 


ating, with the breath of mountain and canyon 
heavy on the still evening air. 

Lieutenant Wingate was riding with the 
driver, Grace now being inside the coach with 
the other girls. To protect themselves from 
the chill mountain air, Elfreda, Anne, Emma 
and Nora had wrapped themselves in blankets 
and were dozing off to sleep. 

Grace was not sleepy, though tfie slow move- 
ment of the stagecoach as the horses climbed 
the steep grade was monotonous. She was too 
keenly alive to the wonders of the mountains to 
think of sleep, anyway. Grace leaned well out, 
with head down, watching the white trail that 
had echoed to the scuff of the moccasins of the 
savage redmen so many times in the past, and 
that was slipping slowly from under her, now 
and then gazing ahead along the narrow way 
with wondering eyes. The distant conversation 
of Lieutenant Wingate and Ike Fairweather 
drifted down in undistinguishable murmurs. 

“ Hippy is filling Ike with war stories, and he 
is drawing the long bow too, I ’ll venture to say. 
What ’s that ? ’ ’ Grace drew a sharp breath and 
her heart gave a thump. 

The Overton girl thought she had seen a 
figure dart to the side of the road and into the 
shadow of the rocks as the coach swung around 
a sharp bend on the mountain trail. 

Jt Grace Harlowe on Apache Trail 


50 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“Yes, there is another! Something is going 
on here ! 9 9 

Grace opened the coach door on the opposite 
side. There was a long, sloping bank on that 
side, the right side, leading down, she did not 
know how far, for the bottom was in deep 
shadow. 

“Perhaps there are Indians on the trail,” 
muttered Grace, slipping out to the trail, and 
closing the coach door behind her as she trotted 
along beside the slowly moving stagecoach. She 
then hopped to the step where she crouched, 
clinging to the door frame with one hand. 
Grace could still hear Hippy and Ike Fair- 
weather speaking, and so interested were they 
in their conversation that they failed to see what 
Grace Plarlowe’s keen eyes had discovered. 

“After all, what I saw may be simply prowl- 
ers,” reflected Grace, though her intuition told 
her that the figures she had discovered on the 
trail ahead meant something more than mere 
prowling. 

Grace Harlowe’s intuition, in this instance, 
was not at fault. 

Two rifle reports close at hand broke the 
mountain stillness, and the coach stopped with 
a sudden jolt as Ike Fairweather brought his 
horses to their haunches, so quickly did he pull 
them up. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 51 


A cry, which Grace recognized as having been 
uttered by Emma Dean, was heard in the 
coach. 

“Flat down on the floor, every one of you,, 
and not another sound ! ’ ’ commanded Grace in a 
low voice, dropping on all fours to the trail, and 
in that position crawling under the coach on 
hands and feet. 

Before ducking under, a quick upward glance 
had shown Grace that Lieutenant Wingate’s 
hands were thrust above his head, and that Ike 
Fairweather was holding his as high as pos- 
sible. 

“All out, and keep your hands above your 
heads ! 9 9 commanded a stern voice on the moun- 
tain side of the coach. “Quick!” 

Grace Harlowe unlimbered her little auto- 
matic revolver from its holster under her 
blouse, the weapon that she had carried through 
the war. 

Four frightened girls, crouching on the floor 
of the Deadwood coach, had not uttered a sound 
since the command to step out was uttered, nor 
had they made a movement to obey that com- 
mand. 

“Come out of that on the jump !” ordered the 
same stern voice that Grace had first heard, but 
this time in a new and more menacing tone. 

A pair of booted legs appeared before Grace 


52 


GRACE HARLOWE 


at the side of the coach, and she heard the coach 
door jerked open, followed by a scream from 
Emma. 

Without an instant’s hesitation, Grace thrust 
her revolver forward until its muzzle was close 
to one of the booted legs, and pulled the trigger. 


CHAPTER IV 

THE BATTLE WITH THE BANDITS 

T HE highwayman uttered a yell, and 
leaped clear of the ground, dropping 
his rifle, which clattered to the trail 
within easy reach of the Overton girl’s hand. 
Bang! Bang ! 

Two rifle bullets ripped through the roof of 
the old stagecoach. 

“The cowards!” fumed Grace under her 
breath. 

Snatching up the rifle that the highwayman 
had dropped, she crawled out from under the 
coach, and ran around behind it just as two 
more bandit shots rang out. 

Grace threw the rifle to her shoulder and fired 
at a shadowy figure that she could barely see, 
and, in the next second, Lieutenant Wingate’s 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 53 


heavy army revolver cracked spitefully from 
the front seat of the coach. With Grace Har- 
lowe’s first shot Hippy had unlimbered, and his 
revolver was now hanging away to good pur- 
pose, as Grace realized when she heard another 
yell of pain. 

‘ ‘ Look out, Grace, I’m coming!” warned 
Hippy as he leaped from the top of the coach 
to the trail. 

“Disarm this fellow, please ! He is wounded 
only in the leg, and he ’s dangerous. I will take* 
care of the others while you are doing that,” 
said Grace, starting to creep forward with rifle 
ready to fire. 

Bang! 

A revolver flashed from behind a jutting shelf 
of rock. 

Bang! 

The rifle in Grace Harlowe’s hands answered 
the revolver shot. She heard her bullet smack 
against the shale rock and pieces of stone patter 
on the trail. 

“Ouch!” grunted the bandit who had fired 
at her. 

Grace was certain that she had not hit the 
man, but she believed that a splinter of rock 
had accomplished what her bullet had missed 
doing. 

While all of this was going on, Hippy was. 


54 


GRACE HARLOWE 


removing the weapons from the bandit through 
whose leg Grace had fired a bullet from her 
automatic revolver. 

The Overton girl was still cautiously creep- 
ing forward. 

“If any of you highwaymen fires another 
shot it will be your last , 9 ’ she warned. 

“Look out, Mrs. Gray! I reckon there’s an- 
other of them critters behind thet pint of 
rock,” drawled the calm voice of Ike Fair- 
weather, who sat holding his horses, observing 
the fight with fascinated eyes. Ike, eager as he 
was to get into the fight, dared not leave his 
team, knowing that, if he did so, they would 
promptly run away with the coach and outfit. 

“I have my eye on him, Mr. Fairweather,” 
replied Grace in a voice that was without a 
trace of excitement. “You heard what I said, 
fellow!” she added, addressing the bandit lurk- 
ing behind the rock. “Toss your weapons into 
the road ! Toss them out ! 9 9 

Bang! 

Again Grace Harlowe had fired at the same 
rock, and again she heard a scattering rain of 
shale that her bullet dislodged. 

The highwayman hiding there threw his rifle 
away. She heard it fall on the trail, but was 
certain that the man still possessed at least one 
revolver, and perhaps two. 



li Disarm This Fellow. ” 
55 



56 


GRACE HARLOWE 


6 i The rest of them! You have two more 
weapons. Out with them, quick ! ’ ’ 

Two revolvers followed the rifle and fell on 
the trail, just as she was about to emphasize her 
command with another shot, as a reminder that 
she meant what she said. 

With rifle at ready, Grace now sprang boldly 
to the ledge of rock where she saw a man stand- 
ing leaning against a tree, a hand pressed to his 
forehead. A few yards further on were two 
others, one lying beside the trail, the other sit- 
ting with his back against a rock. 

“How many of you are there ?” demanded 
Grace of the standing man. 

t i others, ’ ’ weakly answered the bandit. 

“Are the two here badly hurt'?” 

“I — I don’t know.” 

“What’s the matter with you?” 

‘ ‘ Splinter of rock hit me on the head, ’ ’ 
groaned the fellow. 

“You stand where you are if you know what 
is good for you,” directed Grace. “Get up!” 
she ordered, stepping over to the sitting bandit. 

“I can’t. Got smacked in the laig an’ haid. 
I reckon I’ll git you yet fer this bizness.” 

“ Don ’t threaten. Hippy ! ’ ’ 

“Righto!” 

“When you can leave your patient, please 
come here. ’ ’ 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 57 


Lieutenant Wingate approached at a brisk 
trot. By now the rest of the Overton girls, 
having found their courage, had crept from the 
stagecoach and were hiding behind it, peering 
out through troubled eyes. Elfreda finally 
stepped out and walked slowly toward the scene 
of activity, but halted a little distance from it, 
not wishing to detract Grace’s attention from 
her work. 

1 ‘ Please search the fellow sitting here and re- 
move his weapons, Hippy. Also, please see if 
I have killed the one on the ground there. I 
can’t quite bring myself to touch either of 
them, ’ ’ said Grace. 

The man referred to w;as not dead, but he 
was unconscious. 

“He will be out of his trance soon, I think,” 
announced Hippy after a brief diagnosis. “He 
has a dandy scalp wound. Good work, Brown 
Eyes. Any more of his kind looking for 
trouble ? ’ ’ 

“I think not. Have you searched each one, 
Hippy?” 

“Yes.” Lieutenant Wingate was still work- 
ing over the unconscious bandit. “He is com- 
ing around now. ’ ’ 

“Elfreda!” 

“Yes, Grace.” 

“Where are the girls?” 


58 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“ Hiding behind the coach until the smoke of 
battle has cleared. ’ ’ 

“Please tell them to watch the fellow that I 
winged first, and to shout if he tries to crawl 
away. You ask Mr. Fairweather if he has any 
rope. When we get these fellows in condition 
to move we shall have to tie them. ’ ’ 

Elfreda walked back to the coach, returning a 
few moments later with a coil of clothesline. 

“Is there anything more that I can do to as- 
sist you, Grace ?” she asked. 

“Yes. Tell Mr. Fairweather to turn the 
coach around, for we must return to Globe as 
quickly as possible. The prisoners must have 
attention, and then — ” 

“ Jail,” suggested Elfreda. 

Grace nodded. 

“The driver says he will have to unhook the 
horses and turn the coach around by hand,” 
Miss Briggs reported. 

6 ‘ Tell him to do so. What will he do with the 
horses while turning the vehicle?” 

“He says he must stake them down,” replied 
Elfreda, “because the team will run away the 
instant his back is turned. ’ ’ 

Grace made no reply, but stepped over to 
Lieutenant Wingate. 

“How is your man?” she questioned. 

“He will be ready for jail by the time Ike is 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 59 


ready to start. That’s all right, old pard,” he 
added, speaking to the man he was working 
over. ‘ 4 Don’t struggle, for I can’t spare the 
time just now to clout you over the head. You 
thought this wagonload of girls would he an 
easy mark to rob, didn’t you? I reckon you 
have several other guesses coming. Of course 
you couldn ’t be expected to know that this crowd 
is right out of the war zone in Prance, every 
mother’s daughter of them just eager for 
trouble. The matter with you amateurs is that 
you don’t know how to start a real mix-up.” 

“Please don’t nag the man, Lieutenant,” ad- 
monished Grace. 

“I’m not. I’m giving him brotherly advice 
for the good of his physiognomy. How is the 
bird there by the coach? ” 

Grace said the girls were watching that 
bandit. She handed the clothesline to Hippy. 

“You must tie his feet. He promises to be 
troublesome,” she warned, referring to the man 
that Hippy had restored to consciousness. 4 ‘ Be 
humane about it, and do not hurt him unless you 
have to. Should that be necessary make a 
quick, clean job of it.” This was said princi- 
pally for the benefit of the prisoner. 

“Leave him to me,” growled Lieutenant Win- 
gate. 

“When the patient is able to be moved, please 


60 


GRACE HARLOWE 


carry him to the coach. Mr. Fairweather will 
help you, if you need him. While you are doing 
that I will keep watch over the fellow with the 
damaged head.” 

“I don’t need any assistance, thank you,” re- 
turned Hippy, who, after tying the feet of his 
prisoner, grasped the bandit under the arms 
and dragged him to the coach, where he dumped 
the man on the ground. 

“ Here’s two of the birds, Isaac,” chuckled 
the lieutenant. 1 1 Two more over there are be- 
ing guarded by Mrs. Gray. Think we girls are 
able to take care of a cheap bunch of highway- 
men, such as these fellows?” he demanded. 

Ike stroked his whiskers. 

“ Between you and thet there little woman 
over there, I shore reckon you could clean up 
’bout three times your weight in mountain lions. 
Never did see anythin’ like the way she lit into 
’em. Bah ! ’ ’ growled Ike, giving the man whom 
Grace had shot in the leg a prod with the toe of 
his boot. 

“ Lucky for you, you sneak, thet the woman 
banged you in the leg. She could just as easy 
put thet lead through your head. She’s the 
little lady thet can put ’em where she wants ’em 
to go, any old time,” finished the driver. 

“How soon will you be ready?” questioned 
Lieutenant Wingate. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 61 


“ We’ll be on our way right smart, I reckon. 
Where do you Agger on putting ’em?” 

“Two on the floor on blankets, so it will not 
be so hard on them. The other two bandits can 
sit up and I will do the watching. There will 
be room for myself and three women inside. 
The other two passengers can squeeze in on top 
of the coach with you. That all right, Ike ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Shore. Have it any way you like. Mebby 
they won ’t be surprised back in Globe when we 
come crackin’ in with these birds. I’ll bet a 
stockin’ full of marbles thet the sheriff’ll be 
glad to get his hands on ’em. Mebby these are 
the fellows that have been stealin’ things at 
both ends of the trail. ’ ’ 

“There!” exclaimed Hippy, straightening 
up. “I think you two will now stay tied until 
I get ready to untie you. Nora, will you watch 
them? If one of them so much as speaks to 
you, you yell for me.” 

Ike, having staked down his horses at the 
edge of the trail, now began turning the coach 
around. Lieutenant Wingate, in the meantime, 
had rejoined Grace. 

“Are they behaving themselves?” he asked. 

“Perfectly, Lieutenant. I can’t help feeling 
that it was unsportsmanlike in me to shoot that 
fellow through the leg without even giving him 
a chance to defend himself.” 


62 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“Ho, ho, ho!” roared Hippy. “I shall have 
to repeat that to Nora. Listen to these words 
of wisdom from a man of wisdom. When you 
set out to finish a poisonous snake, wallop him ! 
Do not wait for him to coil, nor strike from a 
letter S position. Get him ! That is the 
method I followed in fighting Boches in the air. 
If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here, but some other 
fellows would be there still. Hulloa ! What is 
going on back yonder ? Run, Grace ! I believe 
the prisoners are trying to get away. ’ ’ 

They could hear the girls uttering cries of 
alarm. 

Grace wheeled like a flash, but she did not 
run. Instead, she uttered a peal of laughter. 

“Oh, that is too bad,” she cried, suddenly 
changing her tone. 

1 ‘ What is it 1 What is it ? ” demanded Hippy. 

“Nothing worth worrying about. The old 
stagecoach got away from Mr. Fairweather 
while he was turning it, and it went over the 
edge of the trail into the canyon, that’s all. 
Listen! You will hear it strike the bottom in 
a few seconds. ’ ’ 

“There she goes! Good-bye, old Dead- 
wood,” added Grace as a distant crash was 
borne faintly to their ears. 

“Now we surely are in a fix,” groaned Lieu- 
tenant Wingate. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 63 


CHAPTER V 

WANTED BY THE SHERIFF 

* ‘X X TATCH the prisoners, Hippy! Any- 
yy body hurt?” called Grace as she 
came running to the scene of the 

disaster. 

“No, but Mr. Fairweather’s feelings are con- 
siderably ruffled,” replied Miss Briggs. 

Ike, after having been dragged to the very 
edge of the trail by the coach, had picked him- 
self up and was brushing the dirt from his 
clothes, for he had been dragged right across 
the trail, but let go just in time to save himself. 

“Why, Mr. Fairweather, what in the world 
has happened?” begged Grace solicitously. 

“Don’t ask me, woman, or I’ll say somethin’. 
I ’m mad clean through. ’ ’ 

“I do not blame you,” answered Grace sym- 
pathetically. “How did it occur?” 

“The blamed thing got away from me while 
I was backin’ it around by hand, thet’s all. 
Ought to have known better ’n to tackle it 
alone. ’ ’ 

“How long will it take to get the coach back 


64 


GRACE HARLOWE 


on the trail so that we may go on?” questioned 
Emma Dean innocently. 

“Get it on the trail ?” Ike Fairweather 
groaned hopelessly. “We’ll never get it up, 
Miss. She shore is a basket of kindlin’ wood 
now, an’ I don’t know what we’re goin’ to do.” 

“We can walk,” answered Grace confidently. 
“How far are we from Globe?” 

“Nigh onto thirty mile, I reckon.” 

“Walk thirty miles?” cried Emma. “I 
should simply expire.” 

* i I reckon you ’ll have to walk if you want to 
get back,” grumbled Ike. 

“Walking is most excellent exercise, and I 
am certain that it will do all of us good. I have 
a plan, Mr. Fairweather,” spoke up Grace. 

‘ 1 Thought you would have. ’ ’ 

At this juncture, Lieutenant Wingate came 
up leading the two wounded men who had been 
left down the trail. He too wished to know 
what the plan was for getting back to town. 

“I was about to suggest something to Mr. 
Fairweather,” replied Grace. “We shall have 
to use the coach horses to help carry us.” 

“Do not forget our prisoners in your calcula- 
tions,” reminded Hippy Wingate. “Surely, 
you do not propose to let them go?” 

“I have not forgotten. No, sir, we are not 
going to release them after all the bother they 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 65 


have put us to. Let me see, there are four 
prisoners and five girls. ’ ’ 

“And two men,” interjected Hippy. 

“By placing two bandits on a horse, that will 
leave two horses to carry the rest of us. The 
girls can ride two on a horse, which will take 
care of Nora, Anne, Elfreda and Emma. You 
two men and myself will walk. Should we 
walkers get foot weary, we can change places 
with the girls who are riding. Does that meet 
with your approval, Mr. Fairweather?” 

“It shore does.” 

Hippy suggested, instead, that he be per- 
mitted to ride back to town for assistance, but 
Grace objected to this. 

“The prisoners need medical attention, and 
we shall have to go on short rations as it is, so 
we have no time to lose. We will tie the four 
men on two horses and tie the pair of horses 
together; Mr. Fairweather can lead the ani- 
mals ; you, Hippy, will walk alongside of them 
and I will bring up the rear. ’ ’ 

“What if one of the bandits drops off and 
gives us the slip 1 ’ ’ questioned Hippy. 

“I shall see to it that he doesn’t get far,” 
answered Grace significantly. 

“Huh!” grunted Ike. “I thought the lieu- 
tenant was givin’ me a fairy story ’bout your 
doin ’s in the war. J edgin ’ from what I ’ve seen 

5 Grace Harlowe on Apache Trail 


66 


GRACE HARLOWE 


to-night I reckon he hasn’t told the half of what 
there is to tell. Why, lady, if you was to live 
out here you’d be sheriff of the county at the 
next election. I reckon I know of one vote 
you’d get.” 

“ Thank you. Then you approve of my 
plan!” asked Grace. 

“From the ground up.” 

“And you folks!” she questioned, turning to 
her companions. 

All nodded their heads in approval. 

“I wish I had an airplane,” grumbled Hippy 
Wingate. “I never did like to walk when I 
had to.” 

“We will take the rifles and revolvers of the 
highwaymen with us. I do not believe they will 
have use for their weapons. We may need 
them ourselves. Mr. Fairweather, if you will 
get the horses ready we will load up and start. ’ ’ 

Ike removed his sombrero and wiped his fore- 
head on his sleeve. 

“Yes, I’ll get ’em ready, but what Ike Fair- 
weather wants to say, he can’t, ’cause somehow 
it sticks in his crop an’ won’t come out. You’re 
the real thing, all of you is, an’ any galoot that 
says you ain’t — well, Ike Fairweather will take 
care of thet critter. ’ ’ 

“You fellows, I have a w r ord for you,” an- 
nounced Grace, turning to the prisoners. “I 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 67 


warn you that if you try to get away I shall 
shoot. ,, 

“ Which, altogether an’ in partic’lar means 
thet the everlastin’ daylights will be blown out 
of the critter thet tries to get away , 9 9 reminded 
Ike. ‘ ‘ Fair warnin ’s fair warnin \ 9 9 

‘‘But not Fairweather,” chuckled Hippy 
^Wingate, which brought a groan of disapproval 
from the Overton girls. 

Placing the prisoners on the horses and tying 
them securely was a proceeding that took some 
little time, so that it was fully an hour later be- 
fore the procession started out, Elfreda, Anne, 
Emma and Nora riding on the two leading 
horses, Ike leading the prisoners 9 mounts, 
Hippy in the middle of the procession, and 
Grace Harlowe, with a bandit’s rifle slung in 
the crook of her right arm, bringing up the rear. 

The highwaymen were sullen, not uttering a 
word, so far as Grace had heard, though she 
had no doubt that they had quietly exchanged 
confidences. The one who was most severely 
wounded was the man whose scalp a bullet had 
raked, but he apparently was in no danger, 
though still weak from loss of blood. 

“Is there a place where we can get breakfast, 
if still on the trail in the morning V 9 called 
Anne. 

“Narry a place,” answered Ike Fairweather. 


68 


GRACE HARLOWE 


They plodded on, Grace, if anything, being 
the most cheerful and contented member of the 
party. At break of day they halted, having 
made about ten miles of the thirty. From the 
little kit pack in which each one carried emer- 
gency rations, they eked out a slender breakfast, 
though they had neither coff ee nor tea, that part 
of the food supply being at the bottom of the 
canyon in the wreckage of the old Deadwood 
coach. The prisoners, however, refused to eat, 
maintaining a sullen silence as they watched 
their captors partaking of breakfast. 

At the noon halt, Grace and Elfreda dressed 
the prisoners’ wounds, binding them up with 
skillful hands with pieces of cloth torn from 
skirts. It was not the first time that either 
Grace Harlowe or Elfreda Briggs had dressed 
bullet wounds, both having been called upon to 
do so in numerous instances on the western 
front in France. The prisoners watched the 
dressing operations without uttering a word of 
comment, but the expressions on their faces 
were not pleasant to look upon. 

Ike, who had been regarding the wound-dress- 
ing with interest, turned, as the girls finished 
their work, and walked away running his fingers 
through his whiskers. 

The prisoners were placed on the horses and 
secured, after which the party started on again. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 69 


“Horses coinin’ up the trail, ” announced Ike, 
a few moments later, holding up a hand for the 
party to stop. 

Grace ran forward to halt the two horses 
carrying the four girls. 

6 1 Some one is coming, girls. Go back and get 
out of the way in case there should be trouble,’ ’ 
she directed. 

Grace joined Ike after the girls had taken up 
a safe position, Hippy standing expectantly 
by the prisoners, the outfit, with rifles in hand, 
ready to meet whatever trouble might be in 
store for them. 

Three horsemen swept around a bend in the 
trail, and the instant they hove in sight, Ike 
Fairweather uttered a shout. 

“It’s Deputy Sheriff Wheelock,” he cried. 
“ No w we ’re all right. Howdy, Wheelock ! ’ ’ 

The deputy, upon recognizing Ike, swung 
down from his horse, doffed his hat to Grace, 
and turned to Mr. Fairweather. 

“What do you reckon you’ve got here?” de- 
manded the deputy. 

Ike explained who and what his outfit was, 
relating briefly the story of the loss of the stage- 
coach and the capture of the bandits. 

i 1 This little woman did the business. Deputy 
Sheriff Wheelock, Mrs. Gray, ’ ’ introduced Ike. 

“Do you know the prisoners, sir?” she asked. 


70 


GEACE HAELOWE 


After looking the bandits over closely, the 
deputy shook his head. He asked Ike if he 
needed any assistance to get the prisoners in. 
Grace answered the question by saying that 
they did not. 

“ We’re going out after a fellow who lives in 
the mountains and who has been shooting game 
out of season, but I’ll tell you what I’ll do, I’ll 
send one of my men to Globe in a hurry and 
have him ride out to the sheriff’s ranch and get 
him, ’ ’ offered the deputy. i 6 That will save you 
waiting for the sheriff when you get in. I 
reckon maybe these are fellows that Sheriff 
Collins has been looking for. Take your men 
right to the jail, Ike, and Collins will do the 
rest.” 

After starting one of his men back toward 
Globe, Mr. Wheelock, mounted, waved a hand, 
and, with his assistant, galloped on. The Over- 
ton party assumed its former formation and 
plodded on, weary, but encouraged by the real- 
ization that only a few hours now separated 
them from their goal. 

It was half past three o ’clock in the afternoon 
when the weary, dust-covered Overton party 
reached the Arizona town from which it had 
made its start the day before. The four girls, 
on two horses, decided that they would dis- 
mount before entering the town, even Emma 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 71 


Dean declaring that this was one time when she 
was not seeking publicity. 

The news of the plucky fight that Grace and 
Hippy had made, and their capture of four 
highwaymen, had been carried to town by the 
deputy’s assistant, and throngs stood on the 
main street awaiting the arrival of the party. 
Occasionally there was a cheer from a group of 
enthusiasts, but generally the townspeople were 
silent, curiosity being their leading emotion. 

“ Girls, I think it might be advisable for you 
to go on to the hotel ! You look all f agged out, ’ ’ 
suggested Grace. “Run along, and I will be 
over there as soon as we have disposed of our 
prisoners .’ 7 

Elfreda, Nora, Anne and Emma quickly sepa- 
rated themselves from the outfit, Ike Fair- 
weather, accompanied by Grace and Hippy, 
heading for the jail. The sheriff came out to 
meet them as they rounded up their horses be- 
fore the jail entrance. He strode straight to 
the bandit that Grace, while crouching under 
the stagecoach, had shot in the leg. 

“Hulloa, Con,” greeted the officer. “I can’t 
tell you how glad I am to see you. I’ve got a 
nice little room ready for you. You may find 
it a bit cramped, but it is the best we have in the 
house to-day. 

“Ah! I see you have some familiar faces 


72 


GRACE HARLOWE 


with you, ’ 9 added the sheriff, directing a swift, 
appraising glance at the other prisoners. “A 
fine bunch of brave men you are to let your- 
selves get caught by a party of women. Who 
are you V 9 he demanded, wheeling on Hippy. 

“I am Lieutenant Wingate, Sheriff. This is 
Mrs. Grace Harlowe Gray who got the drop on 
these fellows when all the rest of us were help- 
less.” 

‘ ‘ Glad to meet you, Mrs. Gray,” greeted the 
sheriff, removing his hat and stepping forward 
to shake hands with the Overton girl. “Pm 
Jim Collins, sheriff of this county. So you did 
this little job, eh? You don’t look it for a little 
bit, but you’ve delivered the goods, and that’s 
the answer. My hat is off to you. Ho you 
know who you have here? ’ ’ he questioned, point- 
ing to the bandit with the wounded leg. 

“No, sir, I do not.” 

“He is Con Bates, one of the few real bandit 
leaders left in this part of the west. He ’s a bad 
man, Miss, and I couldn’t begin to express to 
you how pleased I am to get my paws on him. ’ ’ 

“Who are the others?” asked Grace. 

The sheriff named them and Grace fixed the 
names in her mind. 

“Con is the most dangerous of the lot,” 
Sheriff Collins informed her. “This isn’t all 
of the outfit by any means. The rest are in the 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 73 


hills somewhere. What do you reckon on doing 
now?” 

“I hope that we may be able to get out on the 
trail with our ponies some time to-morrow.” 

“ Don’t plan to leave until the late afternoon. 
I shall need you to appear against these men 
to-morrow. Going over the trail, eh? You’ll 
need to keep your eyes peeled when you get up 
in the mountains again. Some of the critters 
still at large may take it into their heads to even 
up with you for this job youVe done. Then, 
too, there’s some roving bands of trouble-hunt- 
ing Apaches up there who are out with the ex- 
cuse that they’re waiting for the hunting season 
to open. I ’ll talk with you about that later. ’ ’ 

“ Thank you, Sheriff. I leave the prisoners 
in your hands, but I should like to have their 
rifles, if you do not object.” 

* ‘ Sure thing. You may need them, too. I’ll 
see you in the morning.” 

Grace shook hands with Ike Fairweather and 
whispered to him that she would give him a 
check for whatever he considered the Deadwood 
stagecoach worth. 

“ Nothin’ doin’,” growled Ike. “Thet old 
coach wa’n’t worth ten dollars, an’ I’ve had 
about a million dollars’ worth of excitement out 
of this here trip. Wish I was goin’ to be with 
you on your pony journey, for I know you folks 


74 


GRACE HARLOWE 


now. you ’ll be stirrin’ up things the whole 
length of the Old Apache Trail, or my name 
ain’t Ike Fairweather. ” 

Promising to see Ike later on, Grace and 
Hippy hurried to the Dominion Hotel where 
Hippy’s wife and the other girls were anxiously 
awaiting them. 

All hands then went to their rooms, bathed, 
and went to bed for a few hours’ sleep. 


CHAPTER VI 

A SHOT WELL. PLACED 

G RACE started out early the next morning 
for a call on Ike Fairweather. The 
whole party slept the late afternoon and 
night through, without even awakening for sup- 
per. She found Ike grooming his horses. 

“Good morning, Mr. Fairweather. I hope 
you are none the worse for your trip,” greeted 
Grace smilingly. 

‘ ‘ I shore ain ’t, ’ ’ grinned Ike. 1 ‘ How ’s your- 
self?” 

“I feel fit. What I wished to see you about 
was to ask if you can recommend some one to 
provide and drive our supply wagon.” 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 75 


Ike stroked his whiskers and regarded her 
quizzically. 

“How will I do!” he asked. 

“Do you mean it? Would you really like to 
drive for us?” questioned Grace, brightening. 

“I shore would, an’ it won’t cost you a cent 
’cept for the feed for the hosses. Tell me ’bout 
it.” 

“Not supposing that you would care for such 
work, we did not even think of you in that con- 
nection. If, however, you really wish to go 
with us we shall be very glad to have you. ’ ’ 

“I’m your man.” 

“That is fine. Of course, you understand 
that we shall pay you, and before we start we 
must decide upon a price that will be perfectly 
satisfactory to you. I would suggest that you 
get under way about two o ’clock this afternoon, 
and we will follow you a couple of hours later. 
Make camp at Squaw Valley. There is plenty 
of room there for a camp. Two horses should 
be enough to draw the wagon. Our camping 
outfit is at the railroad station. Have you a 
wagon?” 

“Yes, a covered one thet will be just the thing 
for you. Can sleep in it if you like.” 

“We shall sleep in our tents. All provisions 
and the like we shall send to you some time be- 
fore you leave.” 


76 


GEACE HAELOWE 


The hearing that afternoon, attended by the 
entire Overton outfit, was of short duration. 
Grace gave her testimony briefly and to the 
point. What she was most concerned about 
was whether or not it would be necessary for 
her to return for the trial of the bandits, and 
she was relieved to learn that it would not, and 
that Ike Fairweather would be the witness who 
would appear against the prisoners at the trial 
at the fall term of court. 

Before leaving the court, Grace was compli- 
mented by the judge for her part in capturing 
Con Bates and his fellow highwaymen. Sheriff 
Collins accompanied her from the court room. 

“ I ’ll have an eye on you while your party is 
in this neck of the woods,” he volunteered. 
“What shall I do with the rifles I promised 
you?” 

“If not too much trouble, please send them 
to Mr. Fairweather ’s stable before two o’clock 
this afternoon. He is to drive our wagon for us 
and will pack the rifles with the other equip- 
ment. Is there ammunition for the rifles or 
shall I purchase some?” 

“Get fifty rounds for each rifle, and, Miss, 
it’s my hunch that you will do well not to pack 
the rifles away so deep that you can’t reach 
them in a hurry, ’ ’ advised Mr. Collins. 

After thanking the sheriff for his courtesy, 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 77 


Grace hurried back to the hotel. The rest of 
the day was devoted to preparations for the 
journey. Ike Pairweather, now fully informed 
as to the immediate plans of his party, got 
away with the wagon on time, and two hours 
later the Overton girls started on their second 
journey into the gorgeous mountains that stand 
sentinel along the Old Apache Trail. The 
ponies they were riding were a bit lively at the 
start, especially the one ridden by Grace, as the 
party galloped out of the town. Emma Dean 
was making heavy weather of it, bobbing up 
and down like a chip on the sea, until Grace, 
fearful that Emma would fall otf, rode up be- 
side her for a word of caution. 

“Sit your saddle firmly, and do not try to 
resist the motion of your horse. Move with 
him, or, rather, permit your body to follow his 
movements,” advised Grace. “There! You 
see you can ride. ’ 7 

“I know, but it bumps me almost to death. 
How far do we have to ride? This beast isn’t 
a bit like my pony. ’ 7 

“Thirty miles or thereabouts.” 

“Oh — h — h!” wailed Emma. “Look at 
Hippy!” 

They had barely cleared the town and 
emerged into the open country when Hippy 
Wingate’s apparently docile pony suddenly 


78 


GRACE HARLOWE 


came to life. The animal whirled and started 
back toward Globe, whereupon Hippy used his 
crop vigorously. Instantly, the pony began to 
buck in the most approved western broncho 
style, and Hippy was more often in the air than 
on the saddle. 

The Overton girls reined in and watched the 
lieutenant’s battle, offering suggestions and ad- 
vice that might have been helpful had the lieu- 
tenant had time to listen. 

Hippy had had no experience with bucking 
ponies, and, as a result, he was becoming more 
and more confused from the terrible jolting he 
was getting. 

“Hang on, Hippy, my darling,” encouraged 
Nora in a shrill voice. 

“There he goes !” gasped J. Elfreda Briggs. 

Hippy made a long, ungraceful dive over the 
lowered head of the native pony. At the side 
of the road there was a ditch with a full twelve 
inches of water flowing over a bottom of soft 
mud. Lieutenant Wingate landed on head and 
shoulders in the ditch. His feet pawed the air 
for a few seconds, then Hippy flopped over, 
with face down in the water and mud. 

It was Elfreda Briggs who checked Hippy’s 
pony at the psychological moment, for the little 
fellow already had whirled preparatory to 
racing for home. As it was he dragged Elfreda 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 79 


along with him until Grace sprang to her as- 
sistance and threw her weight on the hit, at the 
same time talking soothingly to the animal 
whose stubborn resentment slowly melted. El- 
freda led him back without help and stood hold- 
ing the pony, waiting for Hippy to take charge 
of him. 

Lieutenant Wingate was plastered with mud, 
which Nora was solicitously mopping from his 
face with her handkerchief. 

“Let it dry on, then roll him on the grass 
when we find some, ’ ’ suggested Emma. 

“Yes, who coddled you when you fell out of a 
cloud and crashed down on the French front?’ ’ 
laughed Grace. 

“I didn’t fall out,” protested Hippy indig- 
nantly, though a little thickly, for there was 
still mud in his mouth. “It was the other fel- 
low who fell and crashed.” 

1 ‘ Come, take your pony, ’ ’ urged Elf reda. 1 1 1 
have my own to look after. I would suggest, 
too, that if you will treat him right you will 
have little trouble with him. ’ ’ 

“You don’t have to take the brute’s part. I 
reckon I know how to handle a horse. ’ ’ 

“And you have a horse that knows how to 
handle you, if my observation is not at fault,” 
interjected Grace Harlowe. 

Hippy acted upon Elf reda ’s advice, however, 


80 


GRACE HARLOWE 


petted the pony and offered it some candy, 
which the animal refused, and finally swung 
himself into the saddle. 

The party then moved off at a brisk gallop. 
The sun was behind the mountains when they 
reached Squaw Valley for the second time. 
Down on the level below the trail they saw their 
tents pitched and ready for them. The wagon 
team was staked down, a fire was burning in 
front of the tents, and Ike Fairweather was ob- 
served working about the camp. The girls 
shouted and Ike waved a hand. 

Without leaving their saddles, the entire 
party slid their ponies down the steep bank 
without a single rider coming a cropper, though 
Emma lost her stirrups and was clinging to the 
pommel of her saddle, bouncing up and down 
perilously as the party trotted into camp. 
When her pony stopped, which it did abruptly, 
Emma fell off in a heap. About the same in- 
stant Lieutenant Wingate’s pony stepped in a 
hole and Hippy went off over the pony’s head, 
but this time he clung to the bridle rein and held 
the animal. 

“Good work,” complimented Grace when 
Hippy, very red of face, struggled to his feet. 
“You surely are a graceful animal, Lieutenant. 
Pinal Creek is a little way beyond this camp, and 
I suppose you will be falling into that next.” 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 81 


“That’s right. Abuse a fellow when he is 
down , 9 9 growled the lieutenant. 

Grace, with her bridle rein thrown over one 
arm, walked over to Ike Fairweather. 

“Now that Lieutenant Wingate has finished 
his performance, I wish to say that it is very 
fine of you to get our supper started . 9 9 

The bacon was in the frying pan, and the po- 
tatoes, baked in hot ashes, were ready to be 
served, as Grace discovered upon testing them 
with a fork; the coffee was done, and the tin 
plates were already on the folding table that 
had been included with the equipment. Oil- 
cloth spread over the table made it look quite 
attractive. 

Folding camp stools had been placed by Ike, 
and Hippy promptly took a seat at the head of 
the table. 

“Being the only male member of this party, 
proper, my place is at the head of the table,” 
he declared. “Be seated, ladies, I beg of you. 
Kellner — Garcon, I mean, bring on the food 
and — ” 

“Please eat and be silent,” urged Grace 
laughingly, as she began serving the food. “In 
my childhood days I was taught that children, 
while at table, should be seen and not heard. 
Come, Mr. Fairweather, sit down. We are all 
one family now . 9 9 

6 Grace Harlowe on Apache Trail 


82 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“Had my grub,” answered the driver gruffly. 
“Never did like to eat at fashionable hours.” 

Darkness had enveloped mountain and can- 
yon by the time the evening meal was finished. 
It was the deep, mysterious darkness of the 
mountains. The girls could hear the faint, 
musical murmur of Pinal Creek, a few hundred 
yards below them, music that accentuated the 
romance of the mysterious mountain night. 
Hippy Wingate, finally, having eaten all he 
could conveniently stow away, stood up and 
rapped on a tin plate for order. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, raising 
the plate above his head where it reflected the 
light from the campfire. “We are now in the 
former haunts of the murderous Apaches. We 
have fallen willing victims to the irresistible 
charm and the magic power of the waters of 
Pinal Creek.” 

“Some one has been reading a guide book,” 
observed Anne mischievously. 

“Please be silent when your superiors are 
speaking. Where was I f ” 

“Up Pinal Creek, I believe,” reminded El- 
freda dryly. 

“Exactly. We have penetrated far into the 
labyrinth of the red men of other days, the place 
where the savages crept with stealthy tread un- 
til their primitive language came to know it as 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 83 


the Apache Trail. Along this weird and amaz- 
ing pathway — V 

Pock! 

The tin plate was whisked from Hippy’s hand 
and fell clattering to the ground. 

Bang! came the belated report of a rifle. 

Emma Dean uttered a stifled little cry of 
alarm. 

“It is nothing but a bullet, my dear young 
woman, a chance shot from somewhere up in 
the mountains. Kindly pass me another plate 
that I may continue with my narration. ’ ’ 

Grace Harlowe’s face reflected sudden con- 
cern, then she smiled, but her companions 
plainly were nervous. 

“ Where was IV 9 again asked Hippy. 

“I believe you were laboring along on the 
amazing pathway,” Anne informed him. 

‘ ‘ Thank you , 9 9 bowed the lieutenant as Grace 
offered him another plate. * ‘ Along this weird 
and amazing pathway, as already remarked, are 
crowded, in bewildering succession, scenes that 
grip the imagination like phantom photo plays 
of the world’s creation. It was on this path- 
way, this weird and amazing trail that — ” 

The second plate left Hippy Wingate’s hand 
as if by magic, again followed by the report of a 
rifle. Hippy sank down on his camp stool, hold- 
ing the hand that had held the plate. 


GRACE HARLOWE 


84 


‘‘The campfire, Mr. Fairweather !” urged 
Grace calmly, with a note of incisiveness in her 
tone. 

Ike sprang up and kicked the burning embers 
away, stamping out the little flickering flames, 
leaving only a scattered bed of glowing coals. 

A bullet whistled over the heads of the Over- 
ton girls, but the shooter’s aim was not so good 
this time. 

“Some critter shore is tryin’ to shoot up this 
outfit,” growled Ike Fairweather. 


CHAPTER VII 


A LIVELY NIGHT IN CAMP 

<< ARE you hit, Lieutenant !” questioned 
r\ Grace, stepping over to Hippy. 

“Yes, on my right thumb. Don’t 
get excited, Nora,” begged Hippy as his wife 
ran to him. 1 1 The bullet merely broke the skin. ’ ’ 
“This is what comes of your nonsense, Hippy 
Wingate,” rebuked Nora. “It was the shiny 
tin plate that did it. ’ ’ 

Grace nodded. 

i ‘ Shall I pour water on the coals ? ’ ’ asked Ike, 
his voice trembling with anger. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 85 


“Not now, Mr. Fairweather. We will first 
see what develops,” replied Grace. 

“What do yon reckon on doin’ ’bout this 
shootin’, Miss?” persisted the driver. 

“We must protect ourselves, of course, but 
just how, we shall have to consider carefully. 
Is the creek fordable along here?” 

“I reckon so. No difficulty ’bout anyone 
gettin ’ over thet wants to. Why, Miss ? ’ ’ 

“I was wondering if the man who shot at us 
could easily cross to this side of the stream,” 
murmured Grace reflectively. 

“He could.” 

‘ ‘ Then we shall have to take turns at guard- 
ing the camp to-night. I will watch it until 
midnight; Lieutenant Wingate will relieve me 
then and remain on watch until four in the 
morning, which is the hour you turn out, Mr. 
Fairweather,” suggested Grace. 

Ike insisted that he could keep watch all 
night, but Grace shook her head, declaring that 
such an arrangement would not be fair to him. 

“I really believe, Mr. Fairweather, that you 
would be willing to go without sleep during the 
entire journey, just for the sake of getting sight 
of the man who shot at us, ’ ’ averred Grace. 

“I would thet,” rumbled Ike. 

“Please don’t let the incident worry you. 
We girls have been under fire too often to be 


•86 


GRACE HARLOWE 


greatly disturbed by a few rifle shots. Of 
course, it isn’t comfortable to be shot at by a 
man who knows how to use a rifle as well as that 
fellow apparently does, but so long as he doesn’t 
hit one of us why worry?” laughed Grace. 

Ike stroked his whiskers and shook his head. 
At this juncture, Elfreda, who had taken upon 
herself the task of dressing Lieutenant Win- 
gate ’s wound, announced that it was completed. 

‘ ‘ I ’m mighty glad it was the thumb instead of 
the trigger finger,” said Hippy. “I may have 
use for that trigger finger before reaching the 
other end of the Apache Trail. ’ ’ 

“Yes, and the opportunity may come to- 
night, ’ ’ added Grace. She then told him of her 
plan for guarding the camp, rather expecting 
that the lieutenant would protest against being 
called in the middle of the night to do guard 
duty. 

On the contrary, Hippy eagerly seconded the 
suggestion, and promptly got out his rifle, which 
he began to clean and oil. 

“I’m ready. Bring on your bad men,” he 
cried dramatically. 

An hour later the camp was in silence, all, 
save Grace, being asleep in their tents. Her 
watch passed without incident. At midnight 
she made a tour of the camp and its immediate 
vicinity, and, finding the ponies quiet, returned 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 87 


to camp and awakened Lieutenant Wingate. 
The wagon teafri being staked down close to the 
camp, just to the rear of the little pup-tent in 
which the driver slept, needed no watching, for 
Ike could hear their every move. 

“Nothing of a disturbing nature has oc- 
curred/ 9 Grace informed Lieutenant Wingate 
who came out with rifle in hand, yawning and 
stretching himself. ‘ ‘ Please keep a sharp look- 
out and have your rifle within reach at all times. 
That is no more than common prudence. ’ y 
“Now, Brown Eyes, I know what to do. Just 
you turn in for a night of sweet dreams, leaving 
all the rest to Hippy Wingate. ’ ’ 

Reaching her tent, Grace paused, and stood 
looking out until she saw Hippy stroll away and 
disappear in the darkness. She then undressed, 
crept in between the blankets and immediately 
went to sleep. 

It seemed to Grace that she had been asleep 
but a few moments, when, dreaming of the war, 
she was awakened by what, in her dream, 
sounded like the explosion of a shell. Grace 
sprang up and ran to the door of her tent. 

Two heavy rifle reports told her that trouble 
was afoot, and she surmised that Lieutenant 
Wingate was in the thick of it, but hearing the 
lieutenant calling to Ike in an effort to locate 
him, Grace began to wonder. 


88 


GRACE HARLOWE 


The Apache Trail lay a short distance above 
the Overton camp; the creek, near which the 
ponies were tethered, being about an equal dis- 
tance below the camp. The shooting, she dis- 
covered, was occurring somewhere between the 
camp and the trail. 

Grace stepped out into the open, facing the 
trail, just in time to hear a bullet whistle over 
her head. She ducked instinctively. 

“You watch the camp, Lieutenant, ’ ’ she 
heard Ike Fairweather call. 

“No, I’m going with you,” answered Hippy. 

“Are we attacked?” called Elfreda Briggs 
from her tent. “Grace! Are you there?” 

“I don’t know what the trouble is, Elfreda, 
but — ” She broke off abruptly as a sudden 
thought came to her. “Look out for the camp, 
Elfreda!” Without a word of explanation, 
Grace whirled and sped toward the spot where 
the horses were staked. To her rear, somewhere 
in the vicinity of the Apache Trail, she heard 
two more rifle reports, but whether from the 
weapons in the hands of Ike Fairweather and 
Lieutenant Wingate, or from other sources, she 
was unable to determine. 

Nearing the tethering ground Grace pro- 
ceeded with more caution, not knowing what 
new menace she might find confronting her 
there, but the murmur of Pinal Creek was the 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 89 


only sound that interrupted the mountain still- 
ness, a stillness that, on this occasion, seemed 
heavy with significance. 

At the edge of the tethering ground, Grace 
halted sharply and peered about her. 

“Gone! Every one of them gone!” she 
gasped. “I suspected this very thing. This 
is too bad.” Grace started to return to camp 
and tripped over a tethering stake, measuring 
her length on the ground. Before rising she 
fingered the stake and the short piece of rope 
still attached to it. She finally untied the rope, 
and, with it, started for the camp at a brisk trot. 
As Grace neared the tents, Ike and Hippy came 
in from the trail side. 

“I winged one critter,” cried Ike as he espied 
Grace. “He was sneakin' towards the camp 
when I discovered him. You see I kinder 
thought somethin' was wrong, so I picked up a 
rifle an' went out scoutin' for trouble. Well, I 
s 'prised the critter an' let him have it hot, 
thet's all.” 

“We gave him the run, Brown Eyes,” 
boasted Lieutenant Wingate. 

“Di — di — did you hit him?” stammered 
Emma. 

“I reckon I hit the critter once, for I heard 
him grunt. We're all right now, though. I 
don't reckon he’ll be cornin' back this night.” 


90 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“Having accomplished his purpose, I do not 
think he will return,” replied Grace dryly. 

“Eh? What’s thet you say, Mrs. Gray?” de- 
manded Ike, sensing a deeper meaning behind 
Grace Harlowe ’s remark. 

“The ponies have disappeared, Mr. Fair- 
weather ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ What ? ’ ’ Ike ’s whiskers visibly bristled. 

“I said the ponies have disappeared. Look 
at this, will you ? ’ ’ she requested, extending the 
section of rope that she had removed from the 
tethering stake. “What do you make of it, 
sir?” 

Ike Fairweather, recognizing the rope, held 
it close to his eyes and regarded it critically, 
while stroking his whiskers with his other hand. 

“Thet rope has been cut!” he declared after 
an instant of hesitation. 

“Yes, I think so,” agreed Grace. “Before 
it is too late let’s see if we can find the ponies. 
I will go with you. Lieutenant, will you please 
stay here and watch the camp ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, but what are you going to do, Brown 
Eyes?” questioned Hippy. 

“I am going with Mr. Fairweather,” flung 
back Grace, who already was running to catch 
up with Ike, he having strode away too excited 
for words. Not a word was exchanged between 
them until they reached the tethering ground, 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 91 


when Grace suggested that he use her flash 
lamp, which she handed to him. 

For the following few minutes, Ike Fair- 
weather uttered nothing but grunts, now and 
then pointing to the ground as he followed the 
faintly discernible hoof-prints of their ponies 
down to the creek. There the trail turned and 
followed along the bank of the stream for a 
short distance, whence it took a turn toward the 
Apache Trail, which Grace and Ike reached 
shortly afterwards. 

“ There! See thet?” Ike pointed down to 
the Apache Trail, on which a beam from the 
flash lamp was resting. 

“I see horse tracks, if that is what you mean, 
sir. I suppose they are the tracks of our 
ponies, and if so, they appear to be headed to- 
wards Globe/ ’ 

“They shore are, Miss. Listen! While I 
was chasin’ the fellow thet was prowlin’ ’bout 
the camp, three other galoots was stealin’ the 
ponies. I found the men’s tracks back there, 
an’ you can see ’em right here on the trail. 
What them critters have done is to start your 
ponies towards home, an’ the horses prob’ly are 
a long ways from here this very minute. We 
shore are in a fix. What do you reckon on doin’ 
’bout it f ” demanded Ike, caressing his whiskers 
and regarding his companion questioningly. 


92 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“Suppose we return to camp and talk it 
over, ’ ’ suggested Grace. 

Ike nodded, and they started back toward the 
camp. Reaching there, Grace quickly explained 
to her companions what had occurred, and 
asked if any one had a suggestion to offer as to 
what should be done in the emergency. 

“Do you think the ponies will go all the way 
to Globe ? ’ 9 asked Lieutenant Wingate. 

1 ‘ They shore will. ’ ’ 

“What leads you to believe that the robbers 
who took the animals did not go away with 
them?” interjected Miss Briggs. 

“The tracks of the men, Miss. After they 
reached the Apache Trail the horses started on 
alone at a gallop, as you can see by the hoof- 
prints. The two-legged critters went over the 
edge of the trail an’ hit it up for the hills, thet’s 
how I know. ’ ’ 

“I see only one way out of our difficulty,” 
spoke up Grace, who had been pondering over 
the problem. “We have your wagon team, 
Mr. Fairweather. That much is saved to us, 
so I would suggest that you take one of the 
wagon horses and start at once for Globe to 
fetch our ponies back.” 

Hippy said he would accompany Mr. Fair- 
weather, but Grace negatived his proposal with 
an emphatic shake of the head. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 93 


“You may be needed here, Lieutenant/ ’ she 
said. “Should Mr. Fairweather find that he 
needs assistance in leading the ponies back to 
camp he will hire a man to ride out with him. 
Will you do all this for us, Mr. Fairweather ?” 

6 ‘ I reckon. But first I ’ d like to get the critter 
thet teased me out of camp while the others 
stole the ponies/ ’ the old driver fumed under 
his breath. “I’m off.” 

Ike saddled up in a hurry, Grace in the mean- 
time filling a kit bag with food, which she 
handed to the driver. 

“Now, Hippy, I believe you have something 
to say to me/’ reminded Grace as Ike disap- 
peared in the darkness. 

“Brown Eyes, I was asleep when this thing 
started/’ Lieutenant Wingate confessed. 

“Hippy Wingate!” rebuked Nora. 

“Yes, I was, but only for a few minutes. It 
was right after I had made my trip to inspect 
the camp, after Grace turned in. Everything 
was snug and quiet, so I leaned my rifle against 
a tree and sat down. Well, I lost myself, that’s 
all. I ought to be shot. ’ ’ 

“You said it,” approved Emma Dean. 

“I promise you, on my honor, that it will not 
occur again, ’ ’ protested Hippy. 

“What woke you up?” asked Grace. 

“Ike’s first shot.” 


94 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“I thought so,” nodded Grace. “He must 
have known you were asleep, but Ike never men- 
tioned it to me. Please listen to me, Lieuten- 
ant! We are really in a serious situation at 
this moment. The thieves who took our horses 
probably had a further plan in mind at the time, 
and I should not be at all surprised if they 
attempted to carry it out this very night. ' ' 

“Just what are we to infer from that remark, 
Loyalheart?” asked Miss Briggs a bit anx- 
iously. 

“I mean that this camp may be attacked be- 
fore morning — that in all probability it will 
be!” declared Grace Harlowe. 


CHAPTER VIII 


HIPPY CALLS TO ARMS 

E MMA DEAN uttered a cry of alarm. 

“Be an Overton girl,” admonished El- 
freda Briggs. 

“X — I can't help it. I — I'm afraid,” wailed 
Emma, starting for her tent where she threw 
herself on her cot and gave way to tears. 

Grace, in the meantime, was making sugges- 
tions to Hippy as to how the camp should be 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 95 


guarded during the rest of the night. After he 
had faithfully promised that he would never 
again nap, Grace turned toward her own tent. 

It was fully an hour later before Grace suc- 
ceeded in quieting her nerves sufficiently to per- 
mit her to go to sleep. She awakened with a 
start a few moments later. After listening and 
hearing nothing, Grace decided that hers was 
wholly a case of nerves, and again tried to 
sleep. 

It was useless. She could not make her eye- 
lids stay closed. 

A figure darkened the tent opening. 

‘ ‘ Grace ! ’ ’ called Lieutenant Wingate in a low, 
guarded voice. 

“Yes? What is it?” she demanded. 

“There’s a bunch of prowlers near where the 
ponies were, but what they are doing I can’t 
make out without going down there. I thought 
best to call you first.” 

‘ 4 Go away while I dress ! I will be with you 
in a moment. Don’t awaken the girls just 
yet.” 

“Where are they?” she whispered, stepping 
up beside him. 

Hippy pointed towards the creek. 

“I don’t see them now, but I did just before 
you came out,” he said. 

“Hold your place, please, and keep a sharp 


96 


GRACE HARLOWE 


lookout. I want to take a look from the other 
side of the camp.” Grace crept away in the 
darkness, hut in a few moments came back. 

‘ ‘ They are up near the trail now, and I think 
they are mounted, for I heard a horse whin- 
ney,” declared Grace. Running to the tents 
she awakened her companions. Elfreda was 
directed to take her place out in front, with 
Lieutenant Wingate and Grace, to assist in de- 
fending the camp. 

The three defenders were armed with rifles, 
in addition to which Hippy and Grace each car- 
ried a revolver. 

“What is the plan?” questioned Hippy, seek- 
ing final directions. 

“Should we be shot at we will shoot back. 
That ’s all I can say in advance, ’ * replied Grace. 

“Can they see us, Loyalheart?” whispered 
Miss Briggs. 

“No, I think not. The camp lies in a deep 
shadow and we have no fire burning. Hark ! ’ ’ 

“I hear it,” muttered Lieutenant Wingate. 
“I hear horses trotting.” 

“Hold your fire and await developments. 
We must not make the mistake of shooting at 
some one who doesn’t deserve it,” cautioned 
Grace. 

“Merciful heaven! What is that?” cried J. 
Elfreda. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 97 


A shrill, weird yell, which Grace instantly 
recognized as an Indian war whoop, split the 
stillness of mountain and canyon. Many had 
been the time in the forest depths that Grace 
Harlowe’s husband had uttered this thrilling 
war cry for her benefit, in fact he had taught 
Grace herself to do it. 

“A war whoop,” she answered. 

“Steady, girls! We’re going to get it,” 
warned Hippy. 

“Down flat, everybody!” called Grace. 

The hoof -beats of the galloping horses of the 
night marauders were now plainly heard by 
each member of the Overton party. Another 
yell, then a rattling rifle fire swept the camp. 

“Shall we shoot?” questioned Elfreda anx- 
iously. 

“No, not yet,” answered Grace briefly. 

“I think they are going to circle the camp,” 
volunteered Lieutenant Wingate. 

“We will wait until they have made the cir- 
cuit, then let them have it, unless you have a 
better plan, Lieutenant. Every one keep down 
as low as possible and take no chances,” she 
called to Nora, Anne and Emma. The three de- 
fenders assumed a crouching attitude and 
waited. 

The attackers were howling and shooting at 
the same time, their bullets being fired so low 

7 Grace Harlowe on Apache Trail 


98 


GRACE HARLOWE 


that Grace feared some of her party would be 
hit. Horses and men out there in the valley 
were dim shadows, unreal to the little group of 
Refenders, but real enough when it came to the 
rifles that were sending out darting flashes of 
fire and whistling bullets. 

As the riders completed their first circuit of 
the camp and drew in closer, Lieutenant Win- 
gate, without waiting for further orders, threw 
the rifle to his shoulder and fired. A few sec- 
onds later, Grace followed with a shot, then 
Miss Briggs pulled the trigger of her weapon. 

1 ‘ Keep it up !” urged Hippy. “ Follow them 
all the way around with your fire, and take ad- 
vantage of all the cover you can find. ’ ’ 

The Overton outfit was in the fight in deadly 
earnest now. Darting here and there to keep 
the attackers in view, the two girls and Lieu- 
tenant Wingate continued to fire their rifles un- 
til at least two shoulders were aching from the 
kick of the weapons. 

The spirited defense of the three plucky 
campers must have amazed their assailants, for 
the men drew off a little and cut a wider circle 
on the next circuit of the camp, but still keeping 
up and receiving a rapid fire all the way around. 

‘ ‘ Look out ! They Ve changed their tactics, ’ ’ 
warned Hippy. “They’re charging us, the 
fools ! Hold fire till they’re in easy reach, then 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 99 


give it to ’em ! Just let it slowly peter out now. 
Don’t cut it off all at once.” 

The Overton fire was permitted to die out 
by degrees, finally ceasing altogether. The 
strategy of Grace and Hippy had accomplished 
what they wished it to do — it had made the at- 
tackers careless, they evidently surmising from 
the way the firing died away, that the defenders 
either had been killed or wounded. 

Uttering shrill yells, and shooting, it seemed, 
with every jump of their horses, the night riders 
swept down on the little camp in Squaw Valley, 
determined to put a speedy finish to their work. 

“Ready! Fire!” commanded Lieutenant 
Wingate. 

The defenders opened up on the advancing 
horsemen, firing as rapidly as they could pull 
the triggers of their rifles. A moment or so of 
this, apparently, was enough for the attackers, 
who suddenly whirled and raced their horses 
further out, where they again began shooting, 
with bullets from the camp still following them. 

“We have ’em on the run! Keep ’em go- 
ing ! ’ ’ urged Hippy, trying to locate their 
assailants, whose rifles, at that instant, had 
suddenly ceased firing. Now and then one or 
another of the defenders, discovering a move- 
ment among the marauders, would shoot, but 
such shots elicited no reply. 


100 


GRACE HARLOWE 


Hippy finally advised that the defenders di- 
vide their force, and each take a side of the 
camp to avoid a surprise, which was done. 

“Is it all over?” cried Emma Dean from her 
hiding place. 

“We hope so, but keep down close to the 
ground for the present,” advised Miss Briggs. 
“Are you girls all right?” 

“Yes, but not riotously happy,” returned 
Anne. 

“The attackers, I should say, are less so; 
therefore, don’t worry,” answered Elfreda. 

To the great relief of the campers, not an- 
other shot was fired in Squaw Valley that night, 
the attackers having disappeared as mysteri- 
ously as they came, nor did the Overton party 
know whether they had been attacked by white 
men or Indians. 

“All over but the shouting,” cried Hippy, 
as the day began to dawn, laying his rifle aside. 
“Hey! What’s that out there?” he demanded, 
pointing to an object that lay some two hundred 
yards from the camp. 

“I believe it is a horse ! Hippy Wingate, we 
have killed a horse!” exclaimed Grace Har- 
lowe in amazement. “Oh, that is too bad!” 

“Burning shame!” chortled Hippy. 

“Yes, and there is another one down near the 
creek,” added Miss Briggs excitedly. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 101 


“I did it with my trusty rifle,’ ’ cried Hippy 
boastfully. 

“You are welcome to all the glory there is,” 
answered Grace. ‘ 1 Shall we have a look at the 
animals? Perhaps we may learn something. 
Come ! We will take our rifles with us.” 

The Overton defenders had succeeded better 
than they knew. Not only had they driven off 
a superior number of desperate men, but they 
had shot from under their attackers two horses, 
and possibly downed as many riders. 


CHAPTER IX 

A STARTLING DISCOVERY 

“TT IS my opinion that this is an Indian 
pony,” announced Lieutenant Wingate, 
bending over the dead horse nearest to 
the camp. 

“How do you know?” questioned Grace, giv- 
ing Hippy a swift glance to learn if he were in 
earnest. 

“Because it looks like pictures of Indian 
ponies that I have seen. ’ ’ 

Grace smiled, but made no comment. 

“Here is a rifle under the critter, too,” he 


102 


GRACE HARLOWE 


added. “I wonder what happened to the 
rider f ” 

“Is it an Indian rifle f” asked Miss Briggs 
in all seriousness. 

Hippy confessed that he did not know. 

“I don’t believe you would qualify as an ex- 
pert on things Indian,” laughed Grace, starting 
on with her companions toward the creek to 
look at the second victim of the Overton girls’ 
shooting. They found nothing on that pony 
except saddle and bridle. 

“Please remove the equipment from them, 
Lieutenant, ’ ’ Grace requested. 4 1 1 will take the 
rifle. I wish Mr. Fairweather to examine the 
equipment. ’ ’ 

“I sincerely hope he knows more about In- 
dians than Hippy does, ’ ’ observed Elf reda dryly. 

“Do you think those scoundrels will come 
back?” questioned Elf reda as they were re- 
turning to camp. 

“Not in the daytime. If you mean will they 
bother us in future, I will say yes, and, being a 
prudent person, I shall try to be prepared for 
them this evening.” 

“You are a queer girl, Loyalheart. The 
longer I know you the less I understand you. 
You are the gentlest, sweetest woman I have 
ever known, but under the surface you have an 
armor of steel,” declared Miss Briggs. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 103 


“This mountain air surely is making you 
light-headed, Elf reda dear, ’ 9 laughingly retorted 
Grace Harlowe. “I am a woman like yourself, 
no different, and, like yourself, I have fairly 
good control over my nervous system. Youth 
and years of outdoor activity have given me the 
qualities you have in mind. ,, 

“Perhaps that is it. It has given you some- 
thing else, too — it has given you beauty of face 
and figure, given you a better understanding 
and a greater love for your friends, and man* 
kind in general . 9 9 

Grace nodded over the latter sentiment. 

“If all young women could come to under- 
stand what outdoor life means to one, I do not 
believe they would cling to the town, to their 
late hours, late suppers and nerve-breaking 
rounds of social pleasures. It is no especial 
credit to a woman to be beautiful ; it is her duty 
to be so. Any woman whom nature has en- 
dowed with a substantial physical foundation 
may be beautiful, but not from wearing fashion- 
able clothes or the use of cosmetics. Right here 
in the open is the remedy free to all. The open 
spots, Elf reda; God’s free air; healthful, 
wholesome exercise, and right thinking and 
right doing. Pardon me, dear. I do not often 
open my heart like this, though I think of these 
things every day of my life.” 


104 


GEACE HAELOWE 


“I call yours a pretty good religion / 9 de- 
clared Elfreda with emphasis. 

“I do not call it my religion,” objected Grace. 
“Eather, is it my rule of practice. One might 
call it the application of the greater principle . ’ 9 

“We are wading into deep water. Suppose 
we have breakfast, ” twinkled Miss Briggs. 

“Yes. Some time to-day I propose that we 
go for a tramp along the creek and up the 
nearby canyons, and practice a little of what I 
am preaching to you. We will all go and have 
the best kind of a time. Ah! Nora and Anne 
are getting breakfast . 9 9 

“Have plenty of food,” cried Hippy as he 
came in a few moments later with the saddles 
and bridles of the dead horses. “A night in 
the Overton trenches does give one an appe- 
tite.” 

Throwing the equipment down, Hippy told 
Nora, Emma and Anne about the fight of the 
previous night, not forgetting to give himself 
all the credit to which he considered himself en- 
titled. 

“This is terrible,” wailed Emma. “I’m 
afraid of somebody or something.” 

4 4 Fiddlesticks ! ’ ’ rebuked Elfreda. ‘ 4 After 
going through a great war one should not have 
nerves. Let’s eat.” 

After breakfast the defenders turned in for a 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 105 


few hours > sleep, Nora and Anne in the mean- 
time standing guard over the camp. No trouble 
was looked for during the day, but Grace fully 
expected that they would have plenty of it, in 
one form or another, when darkness had settled 
over the valley. 

This apprehension was not permitted to inter- 
fere with their enjoyment of the day, so, after 
the sleepers had finished their naps, mess kits 
were packed and the party started toward the 
creek for an old-fashioned picnic. 

Grace had a twofold reason for wishing to go 
to the creek and up the canyons. First, she 
hoped to put her companions in a better frame 
of mind, and for herself she wished to satisfy 
her curiosity as to the direction that the night 
raiders took after the Overton party drove 
them off. 

Hippy Wingate was left to watch the camp — 
and to sleep, as Grace suspected that he would 
do. 

Grace Harlowe, with rifle under her arm, led 
her party, singing college songs as she tripped 
along, just as she and her companions were 
wont to do when picnicking in the Overton hills. 

Reaching Pinal Creek, the party followed it 
along for a short distance, then turned off into 
a high-walled canyon, where they finally camped 
and spread their luncheon on the ground by the 


106 


GRACE HARLOWE 


side of a rippling mountain stream. There 
they ate and chatted. 

Grace had studied the ground along creek and 
canyon for indications of the course taken by 
the night raiders after the battle. The hoof- 
prints, however, seemed to end at the bank of 
Pinal Creek, and she was unable to pick them 
up again. 

The other girls, following the luncheon, 
amused themselves with lying flat on their 
backs, gazing up the sheer walls of the canyon 
at the ribbon of blue sky lined out by the tops 
of the canyon w^alls. Later on they strolled 
off singly and in pairs in search of wild flowers. 

“Ihn going up this canyon/ ’ called Grace, 
who had risen and picked her way along the 
little stream that joined Pinal Creek some dis- 
tance below them. “If any one of you gets into 
difficulties give the Overton yell. ’ * 

“Same to you,” called Nora. 

It was more than an hour later when Grace 
came sauntering downstream, humming hap- 
pily, for the vastness of the mountains and the 
grandeur of the scenery had thrilled and en- 
tranced her. Anne was waiting for her at the 
point where the girls had taken their luncheon. 

“Where are the girls?” called Grace as she 
espied her companion. 

“Downstream somewhere. They said not to 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 107 


worry, as they might keep on going nntil they 
reached the valley.” 

“It is getting late, and I think it advisable 
for all to return to camp at once. Come along, 
Anne dear. I stirred up something up there 
that I believe to be a large wild animal. That 
is, I heard it, bnt could not see it. Should we 
still be in camp in the valley to-morrow, I hope 
to go hunting for it.” 

“Provided you yourself are not hunted,” 
suggested Anne. 

Grace laughed. 

“Don’t you think I am quite able to take care 
of myself?” she asked. 

“Up to a certain point, yes. Beyond that I 
am apprehensive.” 

“Merely another case of nerves, Anne dear, 
so forget it and enjoy the scenery. Yonder is 
where we turn to take the trail for home. The 
girls must have tired of wandering in this won- 
derful place.” 

Arm in arm the two girls strolled back to- 
wards the camp, chatting, laughing and enjoy- 
ing the bracing mountain air. 

“The girls are at the camp,” said Anne, 
pointing. 

“I have an idea that they did not feel wholly 
safe in the mountains,” replied Grace. “I 
really believe that I could spend the rest of my 


108 


GRACE HARLOWE 


life here and without ever knowing a moment 
of loneliness . 7 7 

“Tenderfeet !” chided Anne laughingly, as 
she and Grace entered the camp. 

Grace 7 s alert eyes instantly missed one of the 
Overton girls. 

“ Where is Emma? Has she gone to bed ? 77 
she demanded. 

“ Emma ? 7 7 wondered Miss Briggs. 

“We left her with Anne , 77 Nora informed 
them. 

“Yes, and Emma went downstream a few mo- 
ments after you girls went away. She said she 
would go back to camp, gathering flowers on the 
way , 77 interjected Anne. 

“How long was this before I joined you, 
Anne ? 77 questioned Grace, turning to her com- 
panion. 

“I should say about three-quarters of an 
hour , 77 answered Anne, a worried look creeping 
into her eyes. 

“What’s this ? 77 demanded Lieutenant Win- 
gate. “Emma missing ? 77 

“Don’t worry. She will turn up all right , 77 
comforted Nora. “You can’t lose Emma Dean 
so easily . 77 

“Elfreda, please get a rifle and come with 
me,” directed Grace incisively. “Hippy, I 
should like to have you go with us, but it is more 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 109 


important that you remain here to look after 
the camp. Should we not find Emma soon, I 
will fire three interval shots for assistance. 
You will then hurry to me, but in that event, 
bring Nora and Anne with you. In no circum- 
stances leave them here alone .’ ’ 

Grace issued her directions calmly, but there 
was that in her tone that brought a worried 
look to four pairs of eyes. That she suspected 
more than appeared on the surface was appar- 
ent to all. 

“You — you don’t think that anything ha — as 
happened to Emma, do you?” begged Anne. 

“Girls, something serious surely has hap- 
pened to Emma Dean!” gravely responded 
Grace Harlowe. “Come, Elfreda! We must 
not lose an instant. You people be alert for 
rifle signals. ’ 9 


110 


GRACE HARLOWE 


CHAPTER X 

A DOUBLE CAPTUEE 

G RACE started away at a brisk trot, fol- 
lowed by Elfreda Briggs, until they 
reached the bank of the creek. 

‘ * My gracious, Loyalheart, but you can race, ’ * 
gasped J. Elfreda. 

“Please work downstream, Elfreda. Watch 
carefully for footprints and broken twigs. I 
shall proceed upstream. About a quarter of a 
mile above here several deep canyons branch 
off, and it is possible that Emma may have 
taken one of these in search of flowers and lost 
her way,” said Grace. 

“How far shall I go?” questioned Miss 
Briggs. 

1 1 Meet me here in an hour. Should you need 
me in the meantime, or, should you find Emma, 
fire three signal shots, with an interval between 
each shot. If in need of assistance I will do 
the same, and, should you hear three interval 
shots, answer them by the same signal with 
your rifle. That will be a warning to the camp 
as well. Hippy understands that, in case we 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 111 


give such a signal, he is to come on the run, and 
bring the girls with him, so that they may not 
be left alone in the camp. Good-bye and the 
best of luck. ’ ’ 

Grace turned and hurried up the stream, El- 
freda proceeding in the opposite direction. 
Grace ran on until she reached the point where 
the narrow canyons radiated out from the one 
the girls had first taken on their way to the 
picnic ground. 

A stream of clear, sparkling mountain water 
was rippling down each radiating canyon, and 
fragrant wild flowers gently nodded their greet- 
ing along the bank of the stream, from the crev- 
ices of rocks and from little patches of dirt that 
clung precariously to the mountainside. 

“I do not believe Emma Dean could resist 
these flowers, ’ 7 murmured Grace. 

In order to observe both banks, Grace stepped 
into the stream that flowed from the larger of 
the canyons, and waded along it, regardless of 
the fact that the icy-cold water instantly took 
all feeling from her feet, her whole atten- 
tion being centered on the flower-bordered 
banks of the stream. Grace was peering at the 
wild flowers, looking for plucked stems. 

The Overton girl suddenly uttered an excla- 
mation and sank down on her knees at the edge 
of the creek. 


112 


GRACE HARLOWE 


1 1 Ah ! Plucked flowers. Some one has picked 
them within a few hours, for the stems are still 
bleeding. ’ 9 

Grace began examining the ground with in- 
finite care, but though she found flowers that 
had been crushed down, she failed to find a 
single distinct footprint. Further up the 
stream, however, she came upon that for which 
she had been searching — the imprint of a hu- 
man foot, a small, slender foot. 

Reasonably certain that she had at last come 
upon the trail of her missing companion, Grace 
sprang up and ran as rapidly as the rough go- 
ing would permit, plunging deeper and deeper 
into the canyon that was now dimmed with the 
gloom of the approaching mountain night. 

The Overton girPs first impression was that 
she should fire her rifle, but believing that 
Emma could not be far away, unless she had 
wandered into still another canyon and become 
wholly lost in the maze, Grace decided first to 
search a little further. At several such canyon 
intersections Grace herself became confused, but 
careful examination of a few yards of her own 
trail to the rear soon set her straight. 

From time to time she would pause and raise 
her voice in a long-drawn call that must have 
reached far up the canyon and up the mountain- 
side as well. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 113 


“I shall have to signal for assistance/ ’ finally 
decided Grace, the gloom now having become so 
deep that she was no longer able to distinguish 
the tell-tale marks left by Emma Dean’s shoes. 

“When Hippy and the girls come, we will 
build fires, and, with torches, follow the trail 
until we find her.” 

Grace decided to signal for assistance, and 
pointing her rifle into the air she fired three 
times at intervals. She waited, listening in- 
tently. There was no response that she could 
hear, so she fired three more signal shots. 

This time three faint reports were borne to 
her ears, but whether they were the echoes of 
her own shots or the answer to her signals, 
Grace did not know. 

When about to move forward again, Grace’s 
nerves gave a tremendous jump as a human 
voice sounded close at hand. 

“What do you all reckon you’re shootin’ at! ” 
demanded the voice. It was a woman’s voice, 
which, in the circumstances, was a welcome 
thing to Grace Harlowe, even though it was a 
voice that she did not know. 

Grace whirled and brought her rifle to bear 
on the owner of the voice. She peered into the 
darkness and was barely able to make out the 
form of the speaker. 

“Who are you!” demanded Grace. 

8 Grace Harlowe on Apache Trail 


114 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“I reckon you’d better say somethin’ for 
yourself,” answered the woman. 

“Very well. I am looking for a young 
woman who is missing from my party, and 
who, I believe, came up this canyon.” 

“Is her name Dean?” 

“Yes, yes!” cried Grace. “You have found 
her?” 

“I reckon so. The kid fell down and hurt 
herself a little. She’s up the canyon a piece. 
I’ll show you.” 

i 1 Oh, thank you. ’ ’ 

The woman turned and strode away, Grace 
following, her anxiety for Emma banishing all 
thoughts from mind of the strangeness of this 
woman’s presence in the dark canyon. 

With the rifle still tucked under her arm, 
Grace stumbled along over the rough ground, 
managing to keep up with her guide, at the ex- 
pense of several falls. Grace knew that she 
was proceeding in the direction which she be- 
lieved Emma had followed, and she was, there- 
fore, eager to get ahead as rapidly as possible. 

“Is Miss Dean badly hurt?” she questioned 
anxiously, stepping up beside her companion. 

“Hurt her ankle, thet’s all,” was the brief 
reply. 

“Oh, that is too bad. How much further 
have we to go ? ” 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 115* 


1 1 Reckon we ’re there now. Miss Dean ! ’ ’ 

“Emma! Are yon there V 9 cried Grace. 

“ Grace! Oh, Grace! Save me!” wailed 
Emma Dean. 

Grace Harlowe sprang forward, ahead of her 
companion, but she did not reach Emma. A 
pair of wiry arms were suddenly thrown about 
her, pinioning the Overton girPs arms to her 
sides. Grace wriggled and struggled desper- 
ately, using every trick she knew to free herself r 
and appeared to be getting the best of the 
struggle, when an unlooked-for interruption oc- 
curred. 

1 1 Bud ! ’ 9 cried the woman sharply. 

A man sprang forward in response to the 
call. 

‘ ‘ Take her gun ! 9 9 panted the woman. ‘ ‘ She ’s 
a terror.” 

The rifle was wrenched from Grace’s hand, 
then the man jerked her hands behind her back 
and tied them there. 

“Thar! I don’t reckon as you’ll do much 
more fightin’ right smart,” declared the woman, 
releasing her grip and stepping back, breathing 
heavily. 

Grace, too, was breathing hard, but more 
from resentment than from exhaustion. She 
now swiftly began to reason out the meaning of 
what had occurred, and in a moment it became 


116 


GRACE HARLOWE 


clear to her that she was in the hands of the 
hand that had been harassing the Overton girls 
on the Apache Trail. 

“Emma, are you hurt?” called Grace. 

“Only my feelings. They’re wrecked,” an- 
swered Emma with a touch of her old-time 
humor. 6 i Come here, Grace . 9 ’ 

“Stay where you be!” commanded the 
woman. 

“You are not otherwise hurt?” begged 
Grace. 

“No,” answered Emma. 

“Now, woman, if you do not mind explaining 
the meaning of this high-handed atfair, I am 
quite ready to listen,” announced Grace Har- 
lowe evenly, at the same time facing her captor, 
whose face she had not yet been able to see in 
the darkness. 

“Shut up!” ordered the man. “We got to 
git out of here on the jump. Belle, you rustle 
her along, an’ if she gits balky, hit her a clip 
over the haid. You owe her one anyhow.” 

“I demand that you release us both in- 
stantly!” answered Grace. 

Without replying, the woman roughly grasped 
Grace by an arm and propelled her along at a 
swift pace, Grace stumbling over nearly every 
step of the way, until they came up with two 
men who were guarding several horses. At 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 117 


this juncture, the man addressed as “Bud” 
came hurrying up to them, leading Emma Dean. 
Her hands, also, were securely bound behind 
her, and Emma was abusing and threatening 
her conductor at every step of the way. 

‘ ‘ Oh, Grace ! ’ ’ she cried plaintively when she 
was halted close by her friend. 

“Keep quiet, Emma, please,” warned Grace. 
“Are your hands tied?” 

“Yes. The brutes tied the rope so tight that 
it hurts awfully. ’ y 

“ If we untie your hands will you promise not 
to try to get away?” questioned Belle, address- 
ing both girls. 

“No!” answered Grace with emphasis. 

The woman shrugged her shoulders. 

‘ ‘ Cut them loose, ’ ’ she ordered. ‘ ‘ They can ’t 
ride thet way without f allin ’ off. You women! 
If you try to run away, you’ll be shot, thet’s 
all,” warned Belle as Bud severed the ropes 
that held the hands of the two girls. 

‘ ‘ Git up ! Both of you. Be lively ’bout it, too, ’ ’ 
he ordered, pointing to one of the horses. 

Grace took all the time in mounting that she 
dared, and Emma crowded into the saddle be- 
hind her. 

‘ i Give the critter his haid. He knows where 
to go better ’n you do, I reckon,” advised Rud> 
swinging into his own saddle. 


118 


GBACE HABLOWE 


The woman rode up and took the lead, Bud 
falling in behind Grace and Emma. Grace saw 
one man ride forward and join Belle, while still 
another remained behind, standing by his horse. 
Evidently he was not going with them. 

The party then started up the canyon, the 
ponies now and then breaking into a trot, as the 
footing permitted. Soon after the start, they 
began climbing the mountain side, along what 
Grace realized was a narrow trail, too narrow 
for safety, and on which the ordinarily sure- 
footed ponies slipped and stumbled perilously. 

“Tell me what occurred,” whispered Grace 
to her companion. 

“I was picking flowers when that woman 
caught hold of me. I never heard her approach, 
and she nearly scared me out of my wits when 
she grabbed me and clapped a hand over my 
mouth. Grace, I overheard the woman and 
that fellow Bud talking, and I learned some 
things. You can’t guess why they have stolen 
us.” 

“In revenge, I presume, for what we did to 
Con Bates and his fellows. This, undoubtedly, 
is the gang that has been harassing us.” 

“Yes, that is one reason. The other is that 
they hope to get some money for us.” 

“You mean ransom?” asked Grace in a 
guarded whisper. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 119 


“Yes. Isn’t it silly? It’s romantic, too.” 

“So, that is it, eh? They will have a fine 
time getting it. I still have my revolver inside 
my waist, Emma Dean, and, if necessary, I shall 
use it. I don’t think they will dare to really 
harm us, but we must be on the alert every min- 
ute for an opportunity to escape. Leave all 
that to me, for I shall know when the time is 
opportune for such a move on our part.” 

“What if they search you and find the re- 
volver ? ’ ’ questioned Emma. 

“They had better not try it,” muttered 
Grace. 

She told Emma that the Overton outfit were 
no doubt, even then, searching for them, though 
she said she doubted the ability of the searchers 
to pick up and follow the trail. 

“Should Mr. Fairweather get back in time, 
he can and will follow it, and I shall expect him 
to do that very thing. Above all, keep your 
head, Emma dear, and do not talk too much. 
The less they know about us the better. I don’t 
believe they know who I am, and I sincerely 
hope they do not find out. ’ ’ 

“Yes, they do know. How, I can’t even 
guess, but one of the men came up and reported 
to that ruffian, Bud, that you were coming up 
the trail with Belle. He referred to you as the 
‘Harlowe woman.’ ” 


120 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“Hm-m-m-m-m,” mused Grace. ‘ 1 They are 
sharper than I thought. Hold tight to me, 
Emma. It won’t do at all for either of us to 
slip off. We are liable to be shot if we do.” 

As they worked their way up the mountain 
trail, Grace tore bits of linen from her handker- 
chief and cautiously allowed them to drift to 
the ground, hoping thereby to so mark the trail 
that their friends would see and understand. 

The captors did not speak a word to the girls, 
slipping hoofs, creaking leather and the heavy 
breathing of the ponies being the only sounds 
accompanying the journey. 

Some time near morning a halt was made, and 
for a few minutes Bud and the woman sat on 
their ponies listening. Grace surmised that 
they had heard something. Either this or they 
were expecting to hear something. A few min- 
utes later the man who had been left down in 
the canyon came jogging up to them, giving a 
signal whistle while still some distance to the 
rear. 

The woman rode out a few yards to meet the 
newcomer, and was joined by Bud, whereupon 
an animated, but low-toned conversation be- 
tween the three ensued. 

“Hang on! There’s goin’ to be some rough 
ridin’,” warned Belle as she galloped up to the 
two girls, following the conference. “We’ve 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 121 


got to make a certain place before snn-np. No 
funny business, neither/ ’ she added warningly. 

It was a grilling ride that the Overton girls 
experienced during the next two hours. A halt 
finally was called to enable two of the men to go 
back and mask the trail of the ponies, but just 
how it was done Grace was unable to see, owing 
to the darkness that still enshrouded the moun- 
tains. 

Day dawned slowly, finding the party thread- 
ing its way through rocky defiles, now well at 
the top of the ridge of mountains. Gray, roll- 
ing hills and rocky towers were all about them, 
and in the east the grayness of the skies was 
gradually giving way to pale rose and silver 
that lengthened and brightened along a horizon 
broken by many mountain peaks. 

The party finally came to a halt in an open 
space, well screened by rocks from view of any 
roving eyes that might be observing from near 
or distant mountain tops. 

There the captors made a hurried breakfast. 
Grace and Emma were directed to help them- 
selves to food, which they did, then sat down by 
themselves to eat, under the observant eyes of 
their captors. 

The men plainly were ill at ease, and it was 
evident that they still were listening expect- 
antly. Finally, one of the men saddled his 


122 


GRACE HARLOWE 


horse and rode back, he soon being lost to sight 
among the rocks. 

“ Those ruffians really fear that they are be- 
ing followed/ ’ muttered Grace, barely loud 
enough for Emma, for whose ears the words 
were intended, to hear. “They have sent that 
fellow back to take an observation. I wonder 
if they have good reason for thinking that they 
are being followed ?” 

“Why can’t we cut and run?” suggested 
Emma. 

“There is nothing to hinder our doing so, ex- 
cept that we probably should be shot before we 
reached yonder rocks. ’ ’ 

“There comes Belle now!” whispered Emma 
excitedly. 

“Keep quiet, please, and let me do the talk- 
ing,” advised Grace. 

The woman was approaching the two girls at 
a rapid step, an expression in her eyes that 
Grace Harlowe did not like. In repose, Belle’s 
face, while regular, and rather attractive at 
first glance, showed hard lines, particularly 
about the mouth, indicating that, when occasion 
demanded, she could be hard and merciless. 
The expression that the face of their captor 
wore as she came towards them gave promise 
that the present might be such an occasion. 

Belle halted before the Overton girls and 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 123 


stood regarding them through narrowed eye- 
lids. Then she spoke, and what she had to say 
brought a pallor to Emma Dean’s face, and 
stirred the fighting instincts of Grace Harlowe 
to the danger point. 


CHAPTER XI 

FOLLOWING A COLD TRAIL 

< < T TELL you I heard Grace ’s signal shots ! ’ 9 
I protested Elfreda Briggs, in reply to 
Hippy’s declaration that he had heard no 
shots except the three fired by Elfreda. 

1 ‘ Listening, as I was, I surely would have 
heard the signal had she given it,” averred the 
lieutenant. “It’s too dark to see anything, but 
of course, if you girls have anything to suggest, 
I am ready to act.” 

“Hippy Wingate! You don’t mean that 
you’re going to sit down and leave Grace and 
Emma in that terrible canyon all night?” pro- 
tested Nora, indignantly. 

“No, not without an effort to find them. I 
didn’t mean that I should sit by the campfire 
and wait for daylight. I’m going now.” 
Hippy slung his rifle under his arm and strode 


124 


GRACE HARLOWE 


off toward the creek. ‘ ‘ Should anything break 
loose, shoot, ” he called back. 

Reaching the creek, the lieutenant trudged 
along it to the canyon, Elfreda having told him 
that Grace had gone in that direction. He ex- 
amined the bank of the creek with a pocket lamp 
that Anne had handed to him, as Grace had done 
before him, but failed to find footprints. When 
he arrived at the point from which other can- 
yons radiated, the lieutenant took the wrong 
one and wandered along its course for half a 
mile. Finding nothing of what he sought, he 
returned to the creek and searched along a sec- 
ond canyon, and so on until finally reaching the 
dark ravine through which Grace really had 
gone in search of Emma. Hippy, on the con- 
trary, failed to find a trail. 

It was long past midnight when finally he 
gave up his search and started back to the camp. 
As he neared it, he discovered, by the light of 
the campfire, that a string of ponies was being 
led down from the Apache Trail. 

“ There comes Ike! Now we’ll see what can 
be done , 9 9 cried the lieutenant in a relieved tone. 
Hippy started on a run for the camp. By the 
time he reached there Ike had arrived and the 
Overton girls were gathered about him, all 
speaking at once, trying to tell him of the dis- 
aster that had befallen them. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 125 


“Them critters got Miss Dean and Mrs. 
Gray?” demanded Ike. 

“We do not know. We know that they are 
missing,” replied Elfreda. “Hippy, did you 
discover anything?” 

“Not a thing.” 

“Come here, Western. Folks, this is West- 
ern Jones thet came along with me to help lead 
the string of ponies. Glad now thet I fetched 
him. West, please stake down the ponies. 
Now you folks tell me every little thing thet’s 
happened, so I can get a line on this business.” 

, The girls told the old stagecoach driver of the 
occurrences of the night when he left for Globe, 
of the picnic, of Emma’s disappearance and of 
Grace ’s having gone in search of her. 

“We’ve got to find ’em, thet’s all,” declared 
Ike, after a moment ’s thought. 4 4 Tell you what 
we’ll do. The lieutenant and I’ll take two 
ponies and lead ’em until we pick up the trail, 
then we’ll ride as far up the canyon as we can 
an’ walk the rest of the way. We’ll send the 
ponies back if we have to. They’ll come right 
back so long as the others are staked here.” 

4 4 What about guarding the camp?” ques- 
tioned Lieutenant Wingate. 

4 4 Western Jones can do thet. West, how’d 
you like a little brush with some of thet Con 
Bates gang?” demanded Ike, grinning. 


126 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“ Sweeter ’n wild honey,’ ’ grinned Western. 
‘ 4 Is it them as has done this trick?” 

“I reckon mebby it is. We don’t know for 
shore. Mebby Apaches, for all I know.” 

‘ 4 Leave ’em to me,” grinned Western Jones. 

‘ ‘ Then you keep these gals right here in this 
camp, an’ don’t you let a one of ’em get away 
till I come hack. Got the makin’s of a light, 
Lieutenant, or have I got to carry a torch to 
light the way?” 

“I have a flash lamp.” 

“Saddle up an’ we’ll be off right smart, an’ 
we’ll bring back the missin’ girls. I don’t 
reckon as thet gang will have more’n a mouth- 
ful of success with them two little ladies. They 
better look out thet they don’t rile thet sweet, 
smilin’ Grace Harlowe too much or they’ll dis- 
cover, when it’s too late, thet they barked agin’ 
the wrong cottonwood. Look for us when we 
get back. ’ ’ 

“Darling, be careful! Don’t get shot,” 
begged Nora, giving her husband a good-bye 
kiss. 

Hippy hurried along and joined Mr. Fair- 
weather, and together they saddled and bridled, 
and then strode down to the creek leading their 
mounts. Ike took the flash lamp and, soon 
after reaching the stream, he picked up the trail 
of the Overton party on their way to the picnic 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 127 


grounds. He found Lieutenant Wingate ’s foot- 
prints also. 

Reaching the point where other trails radi- 
ated out from the main canyon, Ike bade his 
companion hold the horses. Then began a 
painstaking examination of the ground, along 
the little mountain stream, a proceeding that 
excited Lieutenant Wingate’s admiration. 
After a time Mr. Fairweather ’s light disap- 
peared and Hippy was left in the somber can- 
yon to pass the time as best he might. 

Ike was gone an hour. He returned without 
showing a light. Hippy heard him when he was 
almost upon him, and challenged. 

“It’s Ike,” was the brief answer. 

“What luck?” questioned Hippy. 

“Struck the trail. Stands out like a boule- 
vard in a big city. Found somethin’ else, too.” 

“What was it?” 

“Found where some woman met one of ours 
an’ went with her up the canyon. It wa’n’t a 
regular white girl’s footprint thet the woman 
made. Reckon it was an Indian or some moun- 
tain woman, ’cause she had on moccasins. 
There was three or four men a little further up- 
stream an’ they had horses. I found this up 
there. Reco’nize it?” Ike held out something 
white and turned the ray of the flash lamp on it. 

“ E. D. ” muttered Hippy. ‘ ‘ I should say this 


128 


GRACE HARLOWE 


is Miss Dean’s handkerchief. Well, what 
next?” 

“All hands got on the horses and went on up 
the canyon. I come hack from that pint. ’ ’ 

“Ike, you are a wonder! How do you do it? 
I couldn’t read the story of a trail the way you 
do, if I was to practice it all the rest of my life.” 

“An’ I reckon thet if I tried to sail one of 
them flyin’ machines my name would be Dennis, 
right smart,” replied Ike. “Get aboard! 
We’re goin’ right up thet trail and we’re goin’ 
to keep goin’ till either we lose it for good, or 
find the gals, or get shot doin’ one or t’other. 
We can’t pull off: an’ wait till mornin’. Morn- 
in’ may be too late.” 

Hippy swung into his saddle, Ike being but a 
few seconds behind him in mounting, Mr. Fair- 
weather taking the lead at a slow jog trot. 

4 ‘ Right here ’s where they took to the ponies, ’ ’ 
announced Ike finally. How he knew that in the 
darkness, Hippy was unable to imagine, but 
then, Hippy Wingate had not followed moun- 
tain trails at any stage of his career, and knew 
nothing of them. 

Ike now began to flash his light against the 
mountain, first on one side, then on the other. 

“Whoa!” The command came out sharp 
and incisive. “Hold my nag, Lieutenant.” 
The old driver dismounted, and, handing his 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 129 


bridle rein to bis companion, began climbing up 
along the mountainside, keeping the ray of his 
light directly on the ground at his feet. 

Ike returned in a few minutes. 

“I reckon we’ve got to do some tall climbin’ 
ourselves. Party went up the mountain here. ’ ’ 
Ike mounted and started up a twisting, narrow 
trail, his light now in almost continuous use, for 
the going was extremely perilous. 

“See them bits of white cloth alongside the 
trail!” Ike called back. 

“I had not noticed them. I see them now,” 
answered Hippy. 

“Them’s markers that Mrs. Gray prob’bly 
dropped to show us the way. Thet’s a real gal, 
Lieutenant. ’ ’ 

Hippy marveled in silence. 

Day was breaking when they reached the top, 
and, looking back, Hippy found himself wonder- 
ing how they ever made it, for the mountain 
they had climbed looked to Lieutenant Wingate 
to be straight up and down. 

Ike Fairweather, again dismounted, was 
searching the ground, running back and forth, 
covering wider and wider stretches of rock and 
earth, continuously combing his whiskers with 
his fingers, and perspiring freely. Ike finally 
returned to his companion, his chagrin reflected 
in his face. 

9 Grace Harlowe on Apache Trail 


130 


GEACE HABLOWE 


“What’s the matter, Ike?” asked Hippy in a 
cheerful voice, a tone that, at the moment, did 
not reflect his real feelings. 

“Matter? I’m plumb locoed, Lieutenant. 
I’ve lost the trail, an’ I don’t know where to 
look for it. It’s a mighty big place up here, 
an’ mebby we find the track an’ mebby we don’t. 
Leastwise, I’m sorry for the gals who, I’ll bet, 
are lookin’ their eyes out for us.” 

“You are excited, Ike. Sit down, consult 
your whiskers and perhaps you may find an 
idea or something in them,” suggested Hippy 
gravely. 

Ike promptly adopted his companion’s sug- 
gestion, and for the next several minutes gave 
himself up to reflection, punctuated with an oc- 
casional throaty growl. 

“I’ve got it! I’ve got it, Lieutenant!” cried 
Ike, springing up. “It’s a cold trail.” 

“A trail with snow or something on it ? ” ques- 
tioned Hippy innocently. “I haven’t seen 
snow in these mountains, but I presume there is 
plenty of it. ’ ’ 

“No, no, Lieutenant. A cold trail’s a fixed 
trail — doctored so as to mislead a trailer, or 
covered up altogether so he can’t find it. I 
reckon Ike Fairweather ain’t goin’ to be fooled 
by no cheap mountain trick like thet. Lieuten- 
ant, you work to the right, while I go to the left. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 131 


Take a wide circle along the top of the mountain 
an’ come up with me by thet monument you can 
see the top of over to the north ’ard. Watch 
the ground like sixty, an’ watch out for broken 
twigs an’ crushed clumps of grass. If you find 
any, sit still an 9 wait for me.” 

Hippy Wingate wheeled his pony and trotted 
off to the right, peering at the ground, a puzzled 
expression in his eyes. 

“I shouldn’t know a frozen trail, or whatever 
you call it, if I saw one,” he muttered help- 
lessly. 


CHAPTER XII 

AN INTERRUPTED INTERVIEW 

come with me, Mrs. Gray!” com- 
| manded the woman wdio had lured 
Grace to capture. “I reckon you and 
me got somethin’ to settle.” 

U I do not know what you mean, but I am 
ready,” announced Grace, rising. “Come, 
Emma!” 

“You set where you be!” ordered Belle sav- 
agely. 

Emma’s eyes flashed her resentment, and, for 


132 


GRACE HARLOWE 


a few seconds, Grace feared that her little com- 
panion was about to do something rash. Miss 
Dean, who had started to rise, now settled back, 
face flushed, her whole body a-tremble, but 
more from anger than from fear. 

“When I want you I’ll call you,” was the 
woman’s parting admonition as she turned 
away, nodding to Grace to follow her. 

Belle led her captive off behind some rocks, 
within easy calling distance of the group of 
bandits who were still munching at their break- 
fast and at the same time keeping an eye on 
Emma Dean. 

The instant that Grace could do so without 
being observed by the men, she thrust her hand 
inside her tunic and quickly transferred her 
automatic revolver to the right hand pocket. 
She was now walking along with both hands in 
her pockets, feeling more confidence in herself 
now that a means of defense lay within her 
right hand. 

The mountain woman halted behind a wall of 
rock, and, leaning against it, surveyed Grace 
with malignant eyes. 

“You Harlowe woman, what do you reckon I 
ought to do to you?” she demanded. 

“I don’t reckon you’d better do anything to 
me, except to permit myself and companion to 
return to our camp,” answered Grace, lounging 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 133 


carelessly, scuffing the dirt with the toe of her 
boot, but not permitting her gaze to leave the 
face of the mountain woman for a second. 

1 ‘ What if I doT ’ Belle’s eyes blazed. 

“I have friends who never will cease their 
efforts until you have paid in full, bitterly so, 
for what you may have done to me or to my 
companion, Miss Dean.” 

“You threaten me?” demanded the woman, 
her hand slipping to the revolver that swung in 
its holster from her hip. 

“No. I am simply stating a fact, and you 
know it,” calmly replied Grace. 

“Why did you shoot my husband?” snapped 
Belle. 

“Why did I wha — at?” gasped Grace. 

“You heard what I said.” 

“Who is your husband?” 

“Con Bates. I’m Belle Bates, an’ I’m goin’ 
to see to it thet you settle for thet little job 
you did. ’ ’ 

“So, you are the wife of that highwayman, 
eh? I begin to understand. What is it you 
wish me to do?” 

“Settle up right smart.” 

“How?” questioned Grace, now smilingly. 

“I reckon you got money or you wouldn’t be 
out on a trip like you be. You will write a let- 
ter to your friends, telling them to shell out all 


134 


GRACE HARLOWE 


the money they have, to leave it in a certain 
place that I’ll tell you ’bout, then to get back to 
Globe as fast as hoss flesh will carry ’em, and 
then you all get out of the country, an’ stay 
out.” 

“Do you believe they will be foolish enough 
to leave money for one of your gang to go and 
help himself to? I don’t believe you know my 
friends. Why, your messenger never could get 
away with anything so simple as that. Let us 
consider this matter. Suppose I do write the 
sort of letter you demand, and further, that, by 
this childish subterfuge, you get such money as 
our outfit has with it, what will be your next 
move? What do you then propose to do with 
Miss Dean and myself?” 

“I reckon mebby I’ll let you go.” 

“Mebby, eh? That is too indefinite, but I 
presume it is as good as the word of an outlaw 
like yourself can be,” replied Grace boldly. 
‘ ‘ Suppose I refuse to do as you request ? What 
then, Mrs. Bandit?” 

“I’ll serve you as you served Con, only more 
so.” 

“How do you know my name?” questioned 
Grace, more for the sake of gaining time to fur- 
ther plan to outwit this woman, whom Grace 
fully believed meant to do something desperate, 
than because she cared to know. She saw, too, 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 135 


that Belle Bates was working herself into a 
high pitch of excitement and anger that might 
result in greater peril for her captives. 

“Thet’s none of your business/ ’ retorted 
Belle in reply to the Overton girPs question. 

“Let me suggest another plan. If you will 
send Miss Dean with the letter to my friends, I 
will write to them that they are to deposit, if 
they wish, a certain amount of money in what- 
ever place you may designate. ’ 9 

“See anything green in my eyes!” jeered the 
bandit’s wife. 

“My plan is no more foolish than yours. I 
suggested it merely to prove to you that yours 
will not stand the test. Why, Belle Bates, if 
such a thing as ransom for me were suggested 
to them, my friends would throw your mes- 
senger out of camp and probably into Pinal 
Creek. They would then nose out your trail 
and they would follow you until yourself and 
every member of your thieving band were in jail 
or worse. You can expect nothing less, for you 
are as bad as the worst of your miserable out- 
fit,” added Grace. 

Belle Bates’ face was not pleasant to look 
upon at that moment, and her rage was rapidly 
getting the better of what little judgment she 
possessed. 

This was exactly what Grace Harlowe was 


136 


GRACE HARLOWE 


seeking to accomplish, to get her captor in such 
a rage that she would do something that would 
give Grace an advantage, nor did the Overton 
girl overlook the possibility that Belle Bates’ 
rage might lead to the woman’s using her re- 
volver on her tantalizer. 

Fortunately for Grace, the situation did not 
develop that way. With a cry of rage, Belle 
sprang at Grace Harlowe with clenched fists. 

“I’ll fix that purty face of yours !” she cried, 
and launched a swift blow at her captive. 

The Overton girl, smiling aggravatingly, had 
stood calmly awaiting the rush, and easily 
dodged the blow that the Bates woman struck 
at her. 

At that point Grace Harlowe got into action.' 
Her left hand shot out and was as swiftly with- 
drawn, holding in it the heavy revolver which 
she had snatched from Belle Bates’ holster. 
Grace instantly sprang back out of reach of 
those wiry arms, whose strength she already 
had felt, and pointed the weapon at her ad- 
versary. 

“Put your hands over your head!” she com- 
manded sternly. ‘ ‘ Quick ! Don ’t utter a sound 
or I’ll shoot. Now back up against the rock be- 
hind you.” 

“I’ll kill you for this!” fumed the woman. 
Belle Bates had been trained in the hard school 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 137 


of the mountains; she had faced weapons be- 
fore, and she had seen others face them, as well 
as some who went down before them. One 
glance into the brown eyes that were looking 
along the barrel of her own revolver told Belle 
that Grace Harlowe meant what she had said 
and that she possessed the nerve to carry out 
her threat. 

“Turn around facing the rock and rest your 
hands against it as high above your head as you 
can reach ! ’ * commanded Grace. 

The woman obeyed sullenly. 

“ You will now call to Miss Dean to come here. 
Be careful how you do it, too, and remember 
what is behind you. I hope there is nothing be- 
hind me/' added Grace to herself. 

Belle hesitated. Grace uttered another warn- 
ing, a more insistent one, whereupon the moun- 
tain woman called to Emma Dean to come to 
her. 

4 4 Drop thet gun, an’ do it quick !” came the 
sharp command in a man’s voice behind Grace 
Harlowe. 

The Overton girPs heart seemed to leap into 
her throat. She felt a suffocating sensation 
there, her breath coming only with great effort, 
and she could feel herself going cold all over. 


138 


GRACE HARLOWE 


CHAPTER XIII 

A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE 

< < GRACE, what is it?” cried Emma, 

I I who at this juncture arrived on the 
scene. 

Grace Harlowe’s reaction came with Emma’s 
words. Whirling in a flash, Grace dropped to 
her knees just as the revolver of the bandit was 
fired at her. How the fellow had managed to 
get behind her without her knowing it, Grace 
was at a loss to understand. 

A cry behind her now told Grace that the bul- 
let intended for her had hit Belle Bates instead. 
It was now a question of fight or be killed, or 
both, so far as Grace was concerned, and, com- 
ing close on the discharge of the bandit’s re- 
volver, she took a quick shot at the fellow, 
following it up with a second shot, as the bandit 
again fired. 

The man staggered under the Overton girl’s 
second shot, and collapsed on the ground. 

“Run!” cried Grace. “Run, Emma!” 

Emma Dean paused hesitatingly, then darted 
away, but the instant she was out of sight of 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 139 


the bandits, Emma stopped short to wait for 
her companion. 

Grace was still in the thick of trouble, but, 
though the wounded bandit, lying flat on his 
back, continued to shoot, the Overton girl was 
thankful that Belle Bates had no weapon to use 
on her. 

Though the fight had been under way less 
than twenty seconds, the bandits were already 
running to the scene. Grace, following her 
second shot, had darted away, calling to Emma 
as she ran. 

“Run! They’re after us!” admonished 
Grace as she came up with Emma. 

A scattering fire of revolver bullets spattered 
on the rocks about them, but, by lively sprint- 
ing, they soon succeeded in placing substantial 
barriers of rock between them and their pur- 
suers. The bandits, of course, possessed the 
advantage of long experience in this sort of 
warfare, but Grace’s mind was an alert one, 
quick to receive impressions and quick to react. 

“I hear horses coming !” panted Emma. 

“Yes. They’ve taken to the ponies. We 
must get where the ponies cannot conveniently 
go, and do it quick. Run on your toes. Be 
careful not to leave a footprint anywhere, ” cau- 
tioned Grace. 

It was soon apparent from the sounds, how- 


140 


GRACE HARLOWE 


ever, that the horsemen were overtaking the 
girls, though Grace felt reasonably certain that 
the bandits did not know where she and Emma 
at that moment were. In the circumstances 
there appeared only one way to avoid discovery, 
and that was to do some skillful dodging, which 
the two girls promptly did when the pursuers 
drew closer to them. Grace and Emma hid be- 
hind a rock, and, as the riders swept down to- 
ward them, moved step by step around it, so 
that the rock should always be between them 
and the bandits. 

The outlaws swung by at a brisk gallop which 
left Grace and Emma to the rear of their pur- 
suers. 

“Run ! We must find a hiding place,’ ’ urged 
Grace. 

i 1 Grace Harlowe, there is blood on your 
face!” cried Emma as they ran. “Were you 
hit?” 

“I got a scratch on the head. A bullet 
scratched my scalp when I started to run away 
from the fight,” grinned Grace. 

The way was now becoming more rugged, but 
the girls did not lessen their pace, and for 
nearly an hour they continued their plunging, 
stumbling sprint, at the expense of many falls 
and bruises, thankful that, thus far, they had 
succeeded in eluding their pursuers. 



The Outlaws Swung By. 
141 


142 


GBACE HABLOWE 


‘ * I can r t go any further ! ’ ’ wailed Emma. ‘ 1 1 
simply can’t, Grace.” 

“You must, Emma. This is too exposed a 
place for us to halt. There ! What did I tell 
you?” 

A rifle bullet had pinged against a rock close 
at hand, and ricochetted oft with a weird 
zing — g — g — g, followed by the report of a rifle. 

Emma suddenly forgot her weariness and, to- 
gether, the girls fled from that danger spot. 
Now that their presence had been discovered, 
Grace decided to make another change of 
course, which she did instantly. It was a fortu- 
nate change, too, for it led the girls to the edge 
of the mountain. A few yards below where 
they were standing, Grace saw a shelf of rock 
jutting out, and rightly surmised that beneath 
that they might find a hiding place. 

Getting to the shelf and underneath it, with- 
out leaving a tell-tale trail, was difficult, but 
they succeeded in accomplishing it. 

“Lie down and try to get some sleep,” ad- 
vised Grace, after the two had squeezed in under 
the shelf. “We are in no immediate danger 
here.” 

Being on the verge of utter exhaustion, Emma 
Dean needed no urging, and almost immediately 
sank into a deep sleep, while Grace lay back 
with closed eyes, getting what rest she could, 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 143 


and reflecting over the exciting incidents of the 
last few hours. As for the bandit she had shot, 
she did not believe his wound to be a serious 
one. Grace had aimed for the upper left limb, 
and believed she had hit it. She had not had 
time to turn to see how seriously Belle Bates 
was wounded. 

Nothing more having been heard of the 
bandits, Grace finally turned her attention to 
the important matter of getting back to the 
Overton camp. First, she got her points of 
compass from the sun, but this did not greatly 
assist her, not knowing to a certainty in which 
direction the camp lay. Not a familiar land- 
mark could she find. 

“Wake up ! We must be going,” said Grace, 
gently shaking her companion. 

“Grace dear, I’m so lame and stiff that I 
don’t believe I can walk.” 

“Perhaps you prefer to remain here and 
starve or be captured again,” suggested Grace. 

Emma got up, and said she was ready. 

The two girls then started off as briskly as 
Miss Dean’s sore joints would permit. They 
continued on until four o ’clock in the afternoon 
without finding the trail over which they had 
ridden to the mountain top. 

“I fear we shall not find it, dear,” Grace 
finally admitted. 


144 


GEACE HAELOWE 


‘ i Then what are we to do?” pleaded Emma. 
“Pm so hungry, so thirsty and so weary.” 

“I have been thinking of that, and looking 
over the landscape at the same time. It seems 
to me that the second canyon over there should 
lead us somewhere near our camp. Look to 
your right and you will observe that the second 
canyon appears to merge into the one immedi- 
ately in our foreground, so we will try to get 
down the mountain and work our way toward 
the point of intersection. 

“We shall find water to drink in the canyon, 
and we must watch sharply for berries, of which 
I saw many when out picnicking. Other than a 
few berries, we cannot hope to get much of any- 
thing to eat until we reach camp . ’ 1 

Emma groaned. They then began a cautious 
descent of the mountain, creeping from rock to 
rock, slipping and sliding, now and then at the 
imminent peril of being dashed to death on the 
rocks far below them. 

4 ‘Here is a bush of mountain berries. Come 
and get them, but be careful not to fall,” Grace 
called to her companion. 

Emma, upon reaching the bush, threw herself 
down beside it and ate ravenously, then sud- 
denly realizing that her companion had not had 
a taste of the berries, she shamefacedly begged 
Graced pardon for her greediness. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 145 


The bottom of the canyon was in deep shadow 
when the girls finally reached it, though it was 
still daylight on the mountain top. A rippling 
stream of water at their feet, for the moment, 
put all other thoughts out of the minds of Grace 
Harlowe and Emma Dean, and they drank and 
choked until they could drink no more, and, 
after bathing their faces in the cold mountain 
stream, they arose from the brook greatly re- 
freshed. 

“That was almost as good as a meal,” de- 
clared Grace. “It will have to answer for my 
meal, because I failed to find more berries.” 

Emma made no reply to this, but she thought 
volumes of uncomplimentary things about her- 
self. 

Now that the chill night air was settling over 
the mountains, the wound in Grace’s scalp be- 
gan to stiffen and give her considerable pain, 
but she kept her suffering to herself, and, taking 
Emma by the hand, began trudging down the 
canyon, that already was in impenetrable dark- 
ness. They stumbled on for hours, until finally 
Emma gave out entirely. 

“Grace, I simply cannot go another step,” 
she wailed. 

Lighting a match, Grace peered into the face 
of her little companion, and she saw that Emma 
really was suff ering from exhaustion. 

10 — » — Grace Harlowe on Apache Trail 


146 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“All right, little pard, we will camp right 
here. I wish I had a light. I lost my pocket 
lamp yesterday, but I am going to try to make a 
tire. You sit down and do the best you can 
while I feel about for the makings.” 

After accumulating a few handfuls of twigs 
that would burn, Grace placed them beside 
Emma, and began feeling about for a suitable 
camping place. She found one under a pro- 
jection of rock that had been worn out, perhaps 
by the high waters of centuries. There was 
shale and dirt under the rocky shelf, which 
Grace partly scooped out with her hands, and a 
few moments later a cheerful little fire was 
burning. By its light Grace cleared away as 
much more of the dirt and shale as possible, pil- 
ing in green boughs in their place. 

“Is it safe to have a fire?” questioned Emma 
apprehensively. 

“No. We must have warmth or we shall 
freeze, chilled through as we already ate. Get 
in under the rock and you will soon feel quite 
comfortable, I know.” 

“Aren’t you coming in, too?” asked Emma. 

“Yes, after I have laid in sufficient fuel for 
the night,” replied Grace. “As for the fire, 
you see I have laid it close to the rock, and I 
doubt if it could be seen from the top of the 
mountain. * 9 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 147 


“I wish I could do things as you do, Loyal- 
heart. ’ 9 

“You could if you had to. There! I think 
we are fixed for the night, and now I will join 
you. Are you comfortable V 9 she asked, snug- 
gling down beside Emma. 

“I should be were we not in such a mess, 
dear. ’ ’ 

“Be thankful for small things, Emma. This 
really is quite comfy. All we need to complete 
our comfort are a few slices of bacon and a hot 
cup of coffee apiece/ ’ chuckled Grace. 

“Grace Harlowe, you are positively cruel to 
speak of it,” rebuked Emma. “For the mo- 
ment I had forgotten that I was hungry, then 
you had to remind me of it. I could almost 
faint at thought of how hungry I am. Never, 
never again will I make fun of Hippy Wingate’s 
appetite. I never knew what a terrible thing 
an appetite could be . 9 ’ 

“I agree with you that it can be, in some cir- 
cumstances,” admitted Grace. “Suppose you 
go to sleep now.” 

“Oh, I can’t. I am too frightened,” pro- 
tested Emma. “Isn’t it still, and isn’t the still- 
ness in this canyon the noisiest thing you ever 
heard?” 

Grace laughed merrily. 

“You have expressed it exactly, little woman. 


148 


GRACE HARLOWE 


Please get to sleep. I shall not answer another 
question, so do not ask any. ’ ’ 

Grace kept her word, and preserved a stony 
silence to all of her companion’s questions. 
Emma, soon tiring of asking questions that 
elicited no reply, ceased asking them and finally 
dozed off to sleep. 

Grace Harlowe poked the fire and put on 
fresh fuel from time to time, keeping her lonely 
vigil, listening and wondering whether or not 
she would ever be able to find her way back to 
the camp of the Overton outfit. 

Lulled by the warmth of the fire, and worn 
out from her trying experience, Grace’s head 
finally drooped until it rested on Emma Dean’s 
shoulder. 

Grace awakened with a start, then sank back 
into a sound sleep, which lasted but a few mo- 
ments. The support of Emma’s shoulder was 
suddenly withdrawn, as Emma, uttering a 
piercing shriek, leaped to her feet. Grace 
toppled over sideways, but was upright, wide 
awake in an instant. 

In the light of the fire that was now burning 
low, she saw Emma, half standing, half crouch- 
ing, her face ghastly pale, her body shaking as 
from a heavy chill. 

“What is it?” demanded Grace sharply. 
“What did you see?” 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 149 


“I — I didn’t see, I heard/ ’ gasped Miss' 
Dean. 1 1 Oh, Grace, it was awful. ’ ’ 

“Tell me what frightened you!” insisted 
Grace in a severe tone of voice. 

“Something screamed and wailed. It 
sounded like the wail of a lost soul. You know 
what I mean. ’ ’ 

“Never having heard a lost soul wail, I don’t. 
The mountain -silence must have ‘ got your wind 
up/ as the soldiers say of a man who is fright- 
ened. Lie down and go to slee — ” 

Grace got no further. The silent, surcharged 
air split to a piercing scream, followed by a 
frightful, blood-chilling wail of agony. It was 
with an effort that Grace restrained herself 
from leaping to her feet, as Emma Dean again 
screamed, but the cold chills were racing up and 
down her spine, her nerves partly out of con- 
trol. 

“I can’t stand it! Oh, Grace, Grace, save 
me!” Emma, weeping hysterically, threw her- 
self into her companion’s arms as that nerve- 
racking wail of agony again woke the echoes of 
the canyon, this time seeming to be directly over 
their heads. 


150 


GRACE HARLOWE 


CHAPTER XIV 

A NIGHT OF TERROR 

G RACE HARLOWE was frightened. At 
least, for a moment, she felt her nerves 
giving way under the strain, and she 
feared she too was going to scream. Instead, 
she gave Emma Dean a severe shaking. 

‘ 4 Stop it, I tell you! You will have the 
bandits down on us next. Goodness knows we 
have trouble enough on our hands without again 
having to deal with those ruffians.” 

“I don’t care. I prefer bandits rather than 
to have that terrible thing in the air over me , 9 ’ 
cried Emma. 

“It is an animal, though I must admit that 
the wail did sound like the voice of a woman in 
mortal agony. There it goes again. Steady 
yourself, Emma ! Be an Overton girl ! ’ ’ 

Emma Dean buried her head in Grace’s lap 
and again gave way to a storm of tears. Her 
whole body was jerking nervously, but Grace 
petted and coddled, and talked to her, until 
finally Miss Dean, in a measure, recovered her 
composure. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 151 


The wild, haunting, mournful wail was re- 
peated. Emma shivered and so did Grace, 
despite her self-control, but both girls immedi- 
ately recovered their composure. 

The wail burst suddenly, appallingly close, 
seeming, to their overstrained nerves, to be 
right under the shelter that covered the Over- 
ton girls. 

Emma Dean leaped to her feet, and was about 
to dash out into the canyon when Grace caught 
and hauled her back. At that instant, the heavy 
thud of padded feet striking the ground in front 
of the camping place was heard by both girls. 

Peering over the little fire, Grace saw two 
yellow, ball-like eyes out there in the darkness. 
Emma discovered them at about the same time, 
but she made no sound, save a faint gurgle in 
her throat. 

Here was something tangible, something to 
give battle to, and a peril that one could see and 
face had few terrors for Grace Harlowe. 

The bandit revolver that Grace had taken from 
Belle Bates was cautiously drawn from its 
holster. Grace took steady aim and pulled the 
trigger. A heavy report crashed out, echoing 
and buffeting the canyon walls far up the dark 
mountain gorge. 

Grace fired again, and, this time, a scream of 
rage or pain, neither girl could decide which, 


152 


GRACE HARLOWE 


again set the echoes screaming up the canyon, 
but the yellow eyes were no longer there when 
Grace got a clear view of the scene. 

“ There! Your friend, the lost soul, has at 
least one bullet in his body. You see how fool- 
ish you were to be so frightened, ’ ’ rebuked 
Grace, forgetful for the moment that she too 
had been on the verge of giving way to the 
terror inspired by those agonizing wails. “I 
am going to see what I can discover. ’ ’ 

“Please, please don’t leave me alone,” 
begged Emma. ‘ ‘ I can ’t stand it. ’ ’ 

“I am not going away, just out front. Re- 
main where you are. That beast may still be 
lurking about.” 

Grace stepped out cautiously, carrying a 
flickering firebrand in her left hand, the bandit 
woman’s revolver in her right, ready for in- 
stant action. Upon examining the rocks for 
traces of their terrifying visitor, she found 
fresh blood stains. A trail of drops led up the 
canyon from that point, but the Overton girl did 
not follow it, knowing that peril might lurk on 
that trail. 

“Don’t ever say that I cannot shoot straight,” 
cried Grace as she returned to her companion. 
“I hit the beast.” 

“What was it?” questioned Emma, still pale 
and disturbed. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 153 


“I can’t say for certain. I know I never 
heard anything so blood-curdling as that fright- 
ful wail. I have been thinking, and it seems 
to me I have heard that the mountain lion, or 
cougar, has the wildest, most agonized scream 
of anything in the western mountains. ’ ’ 

“Do you think he will come back?” 

“I do not believe so. Were I in his place I 
shouldn’t. I will keep awake and watch. That 
is the prudent thing to do, so you lie down and 
sleep for the rest of the night.” 

Once more Grace took up her vigil, and after 
a time Emma again dropped off to sleep. The 
excitement had set Grace’s head aching, and 
the scalp wound pained her frightfully. She 
tried to lie back and doze, but did not succeed. 
Suddenly three shots, revolver shots, she de- 
cided, aroused Grace to instant alertness. 

Listening intently, she heard three answering 
shots. 

6 ‘ A signal ! Emma, wake up ! ” 

“Wha — at is it?” cried Miss Dean, starting 
up heavy-eyed, swaying a little as she got wear- 
ily to her feet. 

“Shots up the canyon. They were signal 
shots, too. We must put out the fire and get 
away from here. Help me? fetch water from 
the stream to douse the fire. Take your hat. 
Be lively!” 


154 


GRACE HARLOWE 


The fire being low, only a few hatfuls were 
necessary to extinguish it. This done, Grace 
threw boughs from their bed over the heap of 
ashes, then grabbing Emma by a hand fairly 
dragged her across the stream and on a few 
yards to the opposite base of the mountain. 

1 i Climb, but be careful ! 9 9 directed Grace. 

The two girls scrambled up the mountainside 
until it grew so steep that they could go no 
further. 

“Lie down!” directed Grace. Both were 
breathing heavily from exertion and excite- 
ment. 

“I hear them!” whispered Emma. 

“Yes. There appear to be several of them, 
judging from the voices , 9 9 answered Grace. 

The approaching party halted a little way 
up the canyon, but the halt was brief, and the 
horsemen, as such they proved to be, moved on 
down, as it seemed to Grace, with greater cau- 
tion, for she could no longer hear voices, only 
the soft hoof thuds of horses feeling their way 
in the black night of the canyon. 

“They have stopped at our little camp,” 
whispered Grace. “I felt certain that they 
would smell the dead fire. Keep very quiet, 
and be careful that you do not dislodge a stone. 
If you do, we ’re lost . 9 9 

A match was lighted down there, and for a 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 155 


few seconds the dim outlines of horses were 
visible to the watching, listening girls. 

A low-toned conference followed, more 
matches were lighted, flickering here and there 
like scattered fireflies. Grace felt, rather than 
saw, that the men were examining the ground 
for trail signs. If so, they failed to discover 
the direction that the Overton girls had taken 
in their scramble up the mountainside. 

“ Aren’t they going ?” questioned Emma. 

“I think so. Keep quiet until we are certain. 
It may be a trick to lure us back. ’ 7 

A few moments later the horses of the party 
were heard thudding down the canyon, and the 
two girls breathed with less restraint. 

“Emma, I think those men were our bandits. 
I wonder ! ’ ’ 

“ Wonder what?” 

“I wonder if they are not on their way to the 
Overton camp? Emma Dean, I believe we are 
in our own canyon, or near it!” cried Grace, a 
trace of excitement in her tone. 

‘ 4 Even if we are, we cannot find our way out 
in the darkness,” answered Emma helplessly. 

“ Yes we can. At least we cannot get far out 
of our way unless we climb a mountain, and that 
we shall not do. Let’s get down, but be as quiet 
as possible, for we must not be caught again. 
It will go hard with us if we are.” 


156 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“Suppose they should catch us?” questioned 
Emma anxiously. 

“Those men are desperate, but if they get us 
again it will be after I have no shells left in my 
weapons. ’ ’ 

Grace began cautiously scrambling down the 
mountainside, followed by her companion, who 
exhibited less caution. The critical moment 
for the girls was when they reached the bottom, 
and for several moments after setting their feet 
on solid ground, they stood listening. 

“Come! They have gone,” decided Grace, 
slipping a hand into her companion’s. “We 
will follow the canyon until we land some- 
where. ’ ’ 

They picked their way as carefully as was 
possible in the darkness, but the going was so 
rough that Grace finally took to the little moun- 
tain stream, and plodded on down it, until the 
sound of a greater volume of water ahead 
caught her ears. She thereupon immediately 
stepped from the stream, proceeding with cau- 
tion, and in a few moments they came to the 
stream that Grace had heard. There, the Over- 
ton girl felt about with her hands for a time, 
then lighted a match. 

“Emma!” she cried, “do you know where 
we are?” 

“No.” 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 157 


“We are on Pinal Creek. We are almost 
home, little one, and our troubles are nearly at 
an end. Oh, I am so happy — and so hungry,’ ’ 
added Grace, laughing a little hysterically. 

“I can’t believe it. Let’s run,” urged Miss 
Dean. 

“Don’t forget that the bandits are some- 
where ahead of us. I suspect that they are in 
the vicinity of our camp.” 

Grace was anxious for her friends. No shots, 
so far as she had heard, had been fired by them, 
and she began to fear that perhaps all was not 
well in the Overton camp. They pressed on 
more rapidly now, finally reaching the creek 
side of Squaw Valley. No fire burned in the 
camp, nor could the girls see the tents, which 
was not surprising, for the night in the valley 
was almost as dark as in the mountain canyon 
that they had just left. 

“The silence here seems charged with possi- 
bilities,” whispered Grace. “Keep alert, 
Emma.” 

“I am, but it doesn’t seem to do any good. I 
feel wretched and frightened.” 

‘ ‘ There they go ! ” cried Grace. 

A sudden scattering fire of rifle shots some- 
where out in the field made the girls’ nerves 
jump. 

“There go our rifles, too,” added Grace, as a 


158 


GEACE HAELOWE 


spirited fire sprang up at the point where the 
two girls believed their camp to be located. 

‘ ‘ Oh, what shall we do ? ’ ’ cried Emma. 

“Get into a safe place. We have no rifles 
and can do nothing to assist our friends.” 
Grasping Emma’s hand again, Grace ran back 
to the creek. 

“Down!” she ordered as bullets began to 
rustle the leaves over their heads. 

Both girls threw themselves down, and, with 
heads slightly raised, watched the flashes from 
the rifles. The outlaws were not riding this 
time, but were skulking, fighting Indian fashion, 
and Grace was now certain that the bandits that 
had been harassing the Overton outfit had re- 
turned for another attack. 

The battle was being savagely waged on both 
sides, but who of her companions were taking 
part in it, Grace of course did not know. The 
first intimation she had that the fight was ended 
was when she saw four horsemen gallop down 
to the creek and head up the canyon. 

i 1 There they go, ’ ’ announced Grace Harlowe 
in a relieved tone. “Hurry! Some one may 
have been hurt.” 

Hand in hand the girls dragged their weary 
feet across the valley and up toward the camp. 

“Do — do you think our people will shoo — oot 
at us?” stammered Emma. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 159 


“They may at that. I will signal them.” 
Grace fired three interval shots into the air, fol- 
lowing it with the Overton hail, which was so 
weak that it barely carried to the camp. 

“ O-v-e-r-t-o-n ! ’ ’ came an answering shout 
from the camp. 

Grace and Emma soon discovered the figures 
of two men approaching them at a run. 

“Who’s there?” called the voice of Hippy 
Wingate. ‘ 4 Speak or I ’ll shoot. ’ ’ 

“Harlowe!” answered Grace weakly. “Oh, 
Emma, I ’m going to faint ! 9 9 she cried, and col- 
lapsed. 

When Grace recovered consciousness she was 
in her own camp. A camp fire was blazing, and 
a group of anxious faces were bending over her. 
Grace smiled and closed her eyes. 

“She has fallen asleep, don’t disturb her,” 
said Elfreda Briggs. “The poor child is ut- 
terly exhausted. It is a wonder that she is 
alive after what she plainly has gone through.” 


160 


GRACE HARLOWE 


CHAPTER XV 

IKE DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF 

G RACE and Emma, following Grace’s 
faint, had been carried into camp by 
Lieutenant Wingate andlke Fairweather. 
Emma, giving way to the reaction, after her 
trying experience, had immediately sunk into a 
profound sleep, from which they had not awak- 
ened her. The two girls had been put to bed, 
neither awakening until long after daylight. 

Miss Briggs had examined the bullet wound 
on Grace ’s scalp and decided that it should have 
attention as soon as she awakened. 

No one was in her tent when finally Grace 
opened her eyes. After a few minutes of bliss- 
ful resting, the Overton girl got up and dressed. 
She was a little dizzy at first, but the sensation 
quickly passed, and she walked out just as 
luncheon was being prepared. 

There was a shout of welcome as Grace ap- 
peared, and the girls of the party ran to her, 
fairly overwhelming her with their joyous em- 
braces. Emma, who had awakened and 
dressed, came out a few minutes after Grace. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 161 


“We are famished. Please give us some- 
thing to eat,” begged Grace. “While we are 
eating you may tell us what has been going on 
here.” 

“I reckon we’d like to hear ’bout you first,” 
spoke up Ike. 

Grace thereupon related the story of the ex- 
periences of herself and Emma, touching briefly 
on her own part in it. 

‘ ‘ I reckon the woman thet got shot is goin ’ to 
die,” observed Ike. 

“How do you know?” questioned Grace, 
bending a keen glance on the driver. 

“Heard the bandits talkin’ about it up in the 
mountains. ’ ’ 

Ike then told of the search that Hippy and 
himself had made for the missing girls, of their 
losing the trail and not finding it again, and 
finally of having discovered the bandits, spied 
on them, and from their conversation learned 
that Grace Harlowe and Emma Dean had es- 
caped. 

Ike said he learned, too, that the bandits were 
about to start for the Overton camp, at the 
direction of Belle Bates, “and shoot the place 
up for keeps,” as Ike put it. Hearing that, and 
knowing that the two girls had escaped, Ike and 
Hippy started for home as fast as their horses 
could travel, fully expecting to find Grace and 

11 Grace Harlowe on Apache Trail 


162 


GRACE HARLOWE 


Emma at the camp. They had arrived at camp 
about an hour before the bandits. 

“The battle you know ’bout, I reckon. 
Western Jones here shot two of the critters off 
their horses, but the galoots gathered up their 
wounded and rode away with ’em. I’ll bet 
there ain’t a one of ’em that hasn’t a bullet hole 
in his carcass followin’ thet raid. You fixed 
one in the leg up on the mountain. I heard ’em 
say so. Reckon you must have shot high on 
purpose, ’cause you hit him nigh the hip.” 

“I am glad it was no worse,” observed Grace 
gravely. 

“Hope they keep on cornin’ ’long, so, by the 
time we get to the end of the trail, they’ll be 
purty well shot off. ’ ’ 

“By the way, I shot at and hit an animal that 
I think must have been a cougar,” Grace in- 
formed them. After she had described the ter- 
rifying scream of the animal, Ike nodded. 

“Thet’s cougar. Must have hit him hard or 
he’d jumped you. They’re bad medicine when 
wounded. Reckon he crawled off an’ died. 
What are you goin’ to do now?” 

“I think the first thing to be done is to sew 
up Mrs. Gray’s scalp wound,” suggested El- 
freda. “Do you wish me to do it, Grace?” 

“Yes. I was going to ask you to do that for 
me. Suppose you do it now.” 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 163 


Elfreda got her first-aid kit and her needles 
and silk, selected what she wished from the kit 
and handed the rest to Emma to hold. 

“It might be wise to have some one else assist 
yon. Remember, Emma has never worked in a 
hospital,” suggested Grace, seating herself in 
the camp chair that Anne had placed for her. 

“Time she began,” answered Elfreda briefly. 
‘ 6 Emma, yon will be present, but not heard, dur- 
ing this proceeding. ’ ’ 

Ike Fairweather had drawn up a soapbox and 
sat down on it just outside of the circle that had 
gathered about the scene. His eyes were filled 
with curiosity. Ike did not fully understand 
what was “coming off,” as he later described 
it, but felt certain that he was about to witness 
something interesting. 

Steeling herself to resist the pain, Grace 
talked as Miss Briggs inserted the needle and 
began stitching the scalp together, but the lines 
of her face showed the strain under which Grace 
was laboring. 

“Elfreda, haven’t you nearly finished with 
that patchwork?” she finally asked in a queer, 
strained voice. 

“One more stitch and I am done. There! 
It is fini, as the Frenchmen would say. Thank 
you, Emma. I will take the kit.” 

The kit dropped from Miss Dean’s nerveless 


164 


GRACE HARLOWE 


fingers, and, uttering a little moan, she col- 
lapsed. 

“Emma has fainted. Throw a pail of water 
on her face,” directed Elfreda, calmly proceed- 
ing to place a bandage over Grace ’s head. 

Nora ran for water, while Anne, who had 
sprung forward, turned the fainting girl over 
on her back and fanned her with a sombrero. 

Emma’s faint was the crowning climax for 
Ike Fairweather. Ike went over backward with 
his soapbox, landing on his back in a dead faint. 

Hippy grabbed the old coach driver, the vet- 
eran of many a hold-up and thrilling battle in 
the mountains, and twisted him about so his 
head might be higher than his feet. 

“Nora darling, fetch two pails of water,” 
called Hippy. “What ails this bunch of ten- 
-derfeet, anyway?” 

Grace smiled in spite of her suffering, as 
Elfreda assisted her to a cot that had been 
placed for her. In the meantime Ike and Emma 
were regaining consciousness. 

“Well, I swan!” gasped Ike Fairweather 
after Hippy had laughingly assisted him to a 
sitting position, Anne having performed a sim- 
ilar service for Emma. “Never did nothin’ 
like thet before.” 

“I hope you never do it again if you continue 
to pilot this outfit, ’ ’ rebuked the lieutenant. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 165 


“I won't,” promised Mr. Fairweather. 
‘ 4 Next time I shore'll look t'other way,” he 
added, amid laughter. 

Grace beckoned to him to come to her. 

“Did Mr. Jones return to Globe?” she asked. 

“Yes, and the young women gave him a right 
nice present beside what he asked for helpin' 
me to get the ponies out here.” 

“I want to thank you for all the trouble you 
had in looking for Miss Dean and myself. That 
is what I wished to say to you,” added Grace 
smilingly. “When do you think we should 
strike camp and go on?” 

“Whenever you feel fit, Miss.” 

“I think it will be advisable to wait until 
morning, even though the bandits attack us here 
again. ' ' 

“Reckon they got enough for a day or so,” 
observed Ike dryly. “To-morrow morning 
then, is it?” 

“Yes. Make camp to-morrow afternoon 
wherever you think best, only do not let us get 
past your camping place. Thank you so much. 
I do not know what we should have done without 
you, but I sincerely hope our more serious 
troubles are now at an end, ' ' added Grace. 

“Mebby, mebby,” observed Ike Fairweather, 
thoughtfully stroking his whiskers. “Between 
you an' me, I don't reckon they be.” 


166 


GRACE HARLOWE 


CHAPTER XVI v 

A GLIMPSE INTO FAIRYLAND 

T HE Overton girls’ equipment wagon, as 
was customary, went ahead of the outfit 
next morning, and had been gone for 
nearly two hours when the party decided to 
start on their way. 

Hippy Wingate saddled their horses for 
them, and gallantly assisted them to mount. 

“That husband of mine must have learned 
how to assist ladies to their saddles when I 
wasn’t looking,” frowned Nora. 

Grace shook her head. 

“ It is the thought of how near he has come to 
losing us all in the battles with the bandits that 
has softened Hippy’s heart,” corrected Grace 
Harlowe. 

“I wish I could believe it,” muttered Nora 
Wingate. 

The outfit started out, led by Lieutenant Win- 
gate, who took a circuitous route to reach the 
Apache Trail, in order to avoid the steep ascent 
that they would have encountered had they 
taken a more direct course to the trail. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 167 


The eyes of the Overton girls were sparkling. 
For the moment they had forgotten their 
troubles, forgotten the peril-laden mysteries of 
the Apache Mountains, forgotten all but the 
glorious morning, and the wonders that lay all 
about them. 

The first halt made was at the Great Forest 
of Sahuaro, a forest of giant cacti which flour- 
ishes all through the Apache and other moun- 
tain regions in that immediate section. Some 
of these great, awkward plants are all of fifty 
feet high, and from their spiny, fluted trunks 
issue branches which almost equal the trunks 
in diameter. 

Crowning this weird, ungainly invention of 
nature is a brilliant red waxen flower of great 
beauty. 

‘ ‘ That is the state flower of Arizona, ’ 1 Grace 
informed her companions, pointing to the sea of 
red that stretched away for a long distance. ‘ ‘ I 
propose that we dismount, have our luncheon 
here and chat for an hour or so.” 

“ Motion carried,” cried Emma, slipping 
from her saddle. 

Ponies were tethered, and while Hippy was 
seeking water “for man and beast,” as he ex- 
pressed it, the girls got out their mess kits and 
rations. Grace built a little cook fire, and, in 
remarkably short time, the mess call was heard 


168 


GRACE HARLOWE 


at the edge of the cactus forest, while the ponies 
nibbled at what they found. 

‘ ‘ I ’ve been thinking, ’ ’ began Hippy, ‘ ‘ that — ’ ’ 

1 ‘ Marvellous, ’ ’ murmured Emma. 

“That only weaklings faint away,” finished 
the lieutenant. 

“Is that all you had in your mind beside 
thought of food?” Emma came back spiritedly. 

“No, not all. What I really was about to 
say, was that this outfit should have a name. ’ ’ 

“Perhaps we already have a name among 
certain persons who have smelled our powder,” 
twinkled Grace Harlowe. 

“I too have been thinking that we, as an or- 
ganization, should call ourselves something,” 
agreed Elfreda. 

“Aren’t we the Overseas Girls?” questioned 
Nora. 

“Not now. We may be all at sea, but we are 
not overseas,” answered Grace. 

“I move we call ourselves the Rough Rider 
Patrol,” suggested Hippy. 

“Awful!” objected Emma. “This is not a 
part of the State Constabulary. ’ ’ 

“I have it!” cried Hippy. “You’ll say it’s 
a stroke of genius when you hear it. I have the 
name that fits this outfit from the ground up. 
‘ The Automobile Girls on Horseback,’ that’s the 
name for you children, ’ ’ glowed Hippy. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 169 


A chorus of laughs greeted the suggestion. 

4 4 Instead of being a stroke of genius, I should 
call that a stroke of paralysis/ ’ declared Nora. 

“Such is the support that Hippy Wingate 
gets from his wife,” complained the lieutenant. 

4 4 Can you blame her ? ’ ’ teased Grace. 4 4 Anne, 
Elfreda, we have not heard from you.” 

4 4 While you people have been making sport of 
Hippy ’s suggestions, I wish to say that he has 
made an excellent one,” asserted Elfreda. 

4 4 Oh, Elfreda!” cried Anne and Nora in one 
voice. 

44 I will give you to understand that I am no 
automobile girl on horseback,” asserted Emma 
indignantly. 44 I won’t ride under any such 
name, either. I — I’ll faint away first. There 
now!” 

4 4 Save the heroics, Emma. Nothing is fur- 
ther from my mind than to call our outfit by that 
name,” replied Elfreda. 

44 I call that downright mean,” objected 
Hippy, with mock indignation. 4 4 You raise my 
hopes to the skies, shower me with compliments, 
calculated to prove that I am not a paralytic, 
then you drop me over the edge. I leave it to 
Nora if that isn’t cruelty to animals.” 

4 4 It is,” agreed Nora gravely, whereat the 
Overton girls broke into a peal of merry laugh- 
ter. 


170 


GEACE HAELOWE 


“You are both wrong and right, Hippy Win- 
gate. I stand on what I said a few moments 
ago, that you made an excellent suggestion, ' ' 
declared Miss Briggs. “I did not mean that 
your title was wholly good, for it isn't.” 

“Awful,” interjected Emma Dean. 

“For the love of goodness, give our legal 
talent a chance,” begged Hippy, frowning at 
Emma. 

“Hippy mentioned the Eough Eider Patrol, 
which gave me the idea for a name that I think 
will grow upon you as you sleep over it. ' 9 

“Not on Hippy. Only snores follow in the 
wake of Morpheus when he's headed in my di- 
rection,” retorted the lieutenant. 

“Elfreda, what is your suggestion?” asked 
Grace. 

“My suggestion is that we be known as 
Grace Harlowe’s Overland Riders /” 

“ No, no ! ' ' protested Grace. ‘ 4 Give some one 
else a chance. Why not as well call us Lieuten- 
ant Wingate's Overland Chasers?” 

1 ‘ Grace Harlowe 's Overland Eiders ! That 's 
the name. Yip, yip, yeow!” shrilled Emma 
Dean. 

“Look out, she’s going to do the fainting act 
again, ' ' warned Hippy sharply, whereat Emma 
subsided. 

“We are all agreed on the question of the 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 171 


name suggested by Elfreda,” announced Anne. 
“It is a fine name, and cannot be improved 
upon. ’ ’ 

“Neither can the Overland Riders,” inter- 
jected Emma. 

“Of course, if you girls wish it that way, I 
have no objection, but it does seem to me that 
the name ‘ Overland Riders * should be sufficient 
without having to hook my name ahead. ‘ Over- 
land 9 sounds like Overton and is a good word 
for us, a lucky word.” 

‘ ‘ Grace Harlowe ’s Overland Riders it is, now, 
always and forever,” announced Elfreda. 

“So long as the unearthly, ghostly, weird 
sahuaro shall flourish and grow red flowers,” 
added Hippy Wingate amid the laughter of his 
companions. 

“Overland Riders, boots and saddles !” called 
Grace, springing up. 

The Riders followed her, each running to her 
pony, quickly coiling the lead rope about the 
pommel of her saddle and mounting. 

“That was well done, girls. Only Lieutenant 
Wingate bungled,” called Captain Grace as she 
started away at a gallop. 

“I missed my stirrup,” answered Hippy 
lamely, but no one heeded, if she heard. 

“We make camp at Summit, do we not?” 
asked Elfreda, riding up beside Grace. 


172 


GRACE HARLOWE 


‘ ‘ That was the word that Mr. Fairweather 
left for ns. He says we shall have a wonderful 
view there, and that an excellent camping site 
is to he had just off the trail. I hope we shall 
not be visited by the trouble-makers to-night. ’ ’ 

“So do I, but I actually believe you would be 
in the dumps, in a regular blue funk, were we 
to be allowed to move along peaceably without 
excitement or thrills,” averred Miss Briggs. 

Grace smiled and clucked to her pony. 

It was four o’clock in the afternoon, when, 
after a day of toiling up steep grades, along 
precipitous cliffs, scattered mesas and buttes, 
they rode out on a level stretch of trail with a 
view spread before them such as none of those 
joyous, happy girls ever before had gazed upon. 

“The Summit!” shouted Grace. “Did you 
ever see anything so perfectly gorgeous?” 
Grace removed her sombrero and sat gazing in 
silent enjoyment of the scene. 

Roosevelt Lake, an emerald gem set in the 
vari-colored mountains, lay twenty-seven miles 
below them. To their left, against the skies, 
loomed the famous Four Peaks Mountains, and, 
to the right and below them, the Sierra Ancha 
Range, all a mass of gorgeous colors in the light 
of the late afternoon sun. 

Hippy could repress his bubbling spirits no 
longer. He cleared his throat loudly. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 173 


“ Hippy is going to make another speech,’ ’ 
said Anne. 

“If he does I’ll run,” wailed Emma. 

“Ladies and gentlemen — that includes my- 
self — you are gazing on the largest artificial 
body of water in the world — Roosevelt Lake — a 
body of water completely walled in by moun- 
tains, thirty miles long and four miles across 
at its widest part. Set in the — ” 

“Please defer your oration until it is too 
dark to see,” begged Grace laughingly. “I 
prefer to enjoy the view now.” 

“Hippy being wound up, you can’t stop him. 
I know, for I have tried many, many times,” 
whispered Nora. 

“Set in the sapphire rocks of the great color- 
ful mountains, held back by the dam, like Hoppi, 
the Nile God, at whose magic touch the mighty 
Egyptian River brings forth such abundance, 
our prosaic Uncle Sam is causing the desert — 
Whoa! Wha — ” 

Lieutenant Wingate’s pony, left to its own 
devices while its master was lost in the glory of 
his own oratory, had nosed off the trail to 
browse, and stepped on a rounded rock. The 
pony, in trying to recover its balance, went 
down violently on its knees. Hippy went over 
the animal’s head, landing on his back in the 
dirt at the side of the trail. 


174 


GRACE HAKLOWE 


Hippy uttered a grunt when he struck the 
ground. 

“He’s killed! He’s killed!” cried Nora. 
i 1 Serve him right if he is. ’ ’ 

“Oh, Nora, don’t say that,” begged Grace, 
restraining her laughter. 

Hippy sat up' slowly and picked up his som- 
brero. 

“As I was saying when, for the moment 
checked by this trifling brute-interruption,” 
spoke Hippy, “our prosaic Uncle Sam is caus- 
ing the desert to bloom as the rose. The dam 
is two hundred and eighty feet high. That is 
the distance through which the overflow falls 
into Salt River Canyon. Ladies and gentlemen 
— that includes myself — I have finished.” 
Hippy got up and began brushing the dirt from 
his clothes. 

“The kind Fates be thanked,” murmured 
Elfreda Briggs. 

“Hippy must have been studying a new 
guide book, ’ ’ observed Anne mischievously. 

“He has not painted the picture a stroke too 
gorgeously, ’ ’ averred Grace. 1 ‘ This truly is a 
glimpse right into fairyland.” 

Hippy Wingate’s chest swelled with pride. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 175 


CHAPTER XVII 

GOING TO BED IN THE CLOUDS 

T HE Overland Riders did not turn from 
the scene until the “ sapphire rocks,’ ’ 
described in Lieutenant Wingate’s col- 
orful oratory, had turned a dull gray as the sun 
moved over behind the mountains to the west. 

“Forward for a quick gallop to the camping 
site!” called Grace, who led the way alone. 
6 ‘ Column of two ’s ! ” 

In this formation they presented a spirited 
appearance. 

Ike Fairweather heard them pounding along 
the trail, and stepped out to watch the troop 
come on. They swept down on him in a cloud 
of dust, and in answer to an enthusiastic wave 
of his sombrero, Grace spun her own sombrero 
as high in the air as she could hurl it, drove her 
pony forward to meet it, and deftly caught it 
as it came spinning back. 

“Whoo — oo — oope!” shouted Ike. 

“Woo — oo — oo — oo !” howled Hippy, trying 
to imitate an Indian war whoop, but failing mis- 
erably. 


176 


GRACE HARLOWE 


Not to be outdone by Grace Harlowe, the lieu- 
tenant too spun his sombrero into the air, but 
instead of spinning it on its rim he spun it flat. 

The sombrero floated gracefully off in the 
direction of Roosevelt Lake, sinking lower and 
lower into the shadows of the chasm hundreds 
of feet below them, until it finally disappeared 
altogether. 

‘ 4 My hat ! My hat ! ’ ’ howled Hippy. 

The Overland Riders were almost hysterical 
with laughter when they brought their ponies 
down to a quick stop, after Grace, in her merri- 
ment, had nearly ridden down Ike Fairweather. 
Ike had only saved himself from disaster by 
hastily throwing himself into the roadside ditch. 

Nora Wingate was laughing so much that she 
forgot to scold her husband, and Hippy kept 
them laughing for as much longer as possible, 
so that Nora might not remember to give him 
the good-natured grilling that he knew he de- 
served. 

It came, however, when Ike teased him about 
letting a woman outdo him in riding and hat 
tossing. 

“ You wouldn’t imagine that my husband ever 
was a bird of the air, flying above the clouds as 
gracefully as a wild duck on its way to a new 
home in the sunny south. Now would you, Mr. 
Fairweather V 9 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 177 


“Well, seein’ as yon have put the question up 
to me pintedly, I don’t reckon as I would,” was 
Ike’s conclusion, after a brief stroking of his 
whiskers. 

There followed another merry laugh at 
Hippy’s expense, then the outfit dismounted 
and led their ponies to the tethering ground 
that had been selected for the purpose. 

“You folks’ll find it a little crowded, but the 
camp is high and fine,” volunteered Mr. Fair- 
weather. 

“Where is your wagon?” asked Lieutenant 
Wingate. 

“ ’Bout a hundred yards further along the 
trail. Not room enough for it hereabouts, an’ I 
can’t drag it up the hill where the horses are. 
I reckon thet after this I’ll have the horses in 
pistol shot of me all the time. ’ ’ 

“Either that or we shall have to post a guard 
over the animals every night,” said Grace. 
“Please show us where to take our ponies,” 
she requested. 

A ‘ ‘ tote path, ’ ’ a narrow path used principally 
by foot travelers, led up the mountain side, 
winding through cacti and scrub cottonwoods 
for more than a hundred yards, and up this nar- 
row, crooked path the Overland Riders led their 
saddle ponies, finally emerging on a narrow 
mesa or tableland, bordered with scraggly cot- 

12 — • — Grace Harlowe on Apache Trail 


178 


GRACE HARLOWE 


tonwoods that found their moisture in a nearby 
mountain stream. 

The camp of the Overton girls had been 
pitched by this stream, fresh water close at 
hand being a vital thing to outdoor camps. 

Hippy Wingate tied his pony to a tree, and, 
stepping to the edge of the mesa, waved a hand 
toward the black abyss beyond and below them. 

‘ 1 The yawning chasm ! ’ ’ he exclaimed, and sat 
down. 

1 1 That is the most fascinating speech you ever 
made, Lieutenant Wingate/ ’ observed Miss 
Briggs. 

“Eh? That so? Why?” 

“Because there were only three words in it,” 
interjected Emma Dean. 

Hippy sniffed, and, getting up, went over and 
untied his pony. 

While the men were staking down the horses 
and fetching water for them from the stream, 
the girls were busily engaged in preparing sup- 
per. Ike not only had pitched the tents, but 
had placed the luggage of his charges in its 
proper place and set the camp in order in ad- 
vance of the arrival of the party. 

The campfire was still low, purposely kept so 
for cooking purposes, but a heap of wood nearby 
promised a cheerful blaze later on. 

Pork and beans, bread without butter, canned 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 179 


soup and cake, that Hippy Wingate declared 
had been baked on a cactus plant, together with 
a large pot of coffee, formed the principal part 
of the evening’s bill of fare. 

“Not a prize winner in variety, but great 
chow , 9 9 approved Hippy, which was high praise 
for Lieutenant Wingate. 

Following the meal, Elfreda questioned the 
old stagecoach driver about the country where 
they were encamped. 

“All Apache ground,” answered Ike with a 
comprehensive wave of the hand. “They’ve fit 
over every inch of it. You’ll see some of them 
folks to-morrow or next day. How long do you 
reckon on stayin ’ at the Lodge ? ’ ’ 

“What is there to keep us busy there?” asked 
Grace. 

“The lake, the cliff dwellers’ homes, Apaches, 
an’ huntin’ in the Sierra Anchas, if you folks 
care for thet. There’s great fishin’ in the lake 
too.” 

“It sounds interesting,” agreed Grace, “but 
of course you know we do not care to camp 
where there are people. What we are out for 
is to get away from people. What is there in 
the way of game in the Sierra Ancha Range ? ’ ’ 

“Deer, bear an’ cougar is the big game. 
Plenty of smaller stuff.” 

“I will talk with our party about the hunting,, 


180 


GRACE HARLOWE 


but I hardly think they will care for it. Is it 
possible to visit the cliff dwellings ?” ques- 
tioned Grace. 

“Some of ’em. Others can’t be reached.” 

Elfreda glanced quickly at Grace and frowned 
to herself. 

“You mean that no one has been able to get to 
them, Mr. Fairweather ? ” 

“Yes, Mrs. Gray.” 

“Why not?” 

1 1 Sharp cliffs hundreds of feet up or down. ’ ’ 

“One can get above them, I suppose?” per- 
sisted Grace. 

“Yes, by takin’ a trail ’round the mountain.” 

“I’ll take a try at exploring them,” observed 
Hippy as if he really meant it. 

“You will not if you keep on eating,” de- 
clared Nora. 

“Are there other trails that lead to the top 
— I should say that lead to the mountain where 
these cliff dwellers lived?” questioned Grace. 

“From other directions, yes.” 

“So that one could get there without follow- 
ing the route we have taken thus far?” 

“Oh, yes.” 

“What are you driving at, Grace?” de- 
manded Anne. 

“Information, Anne dear. Remember, one 
never can know too much about anything.” 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 181 


“Yes he can,” differed Hippy. “One can 
know too much about overland riding. I know 
so much about it already that it pains me to 
think about how much I do know, and the jour- 
ney isn’t half over. At this rate I shall acquire 
so much information that my brain surely will 
blow up one day. ’ 9 

“Your what?” asked Emma innocently. 

Even Ike Fairweather joined in the laugh 
that followed. Nora nodded, and smiled her 
approval at Emma. 

“I should prefer to blow up from an over- 
supply of brains than to faint because of short 
measure,” retorted Hippy heatedly. 

* ‘ Brakes on ! ” ordered Grace, trying hard not 
to laugh. “That was real mean of you, Hippy 
Wingate. I think you should apologize to 
Emma . 9 9 

“All right, let’s go. I do apologize, Miss 
Dean. My seeming rudeness was not rudeness 
at all, it was merely an effort on my part to 
make conversation and to maintain my reputa- 
tion for making myself agreeable. I’ll go fur- 
ther with my apology and assure you that I 
know that it wasn’t because you are sometimes 
brainless that you fainted, but because — ” 

“Hippy Wingate!” rebuked Nora sharply. 
“I shall never, never speak to you again unless 
you tell Emma you are sorry.” 


182 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“Whether I mean it or not?” 

“Please do as I ask you to.” 

“Ike, have you another hat in the wagon that 
I can wear to town to-morrow?” 

Mr. Fairweather said he had not. 

“I am sorry, Miss Dean, and I hope you will 
forgive me for my rude — my seeming rude- 
ness,” corrected Hippy. 

Emma’s face broke out into smiles, indicating 
that the clouds had passed. 

“You are forgiven, Hippy,” she nodded. 

“Whether I mean it or not?” 

“Yes.” 

‘ ‘ Thank you. I will think it over and let you 
know to-morrow whether or not I do mean it. ’ 9 
Hippy lifted his head and inhaled a long breath. 

“Fog! We are rapidly being enveloped in 
it , 9 9 exclaimed Anne who had observed the lieu- 
tenant ’s action. 

‘ ‘ That is what you call it. I call it a cloud. I 
ought to know, for many is the time that I have 
smelled clouds , 9 9 declared Hippy. 

“Yep, them’s clouds,” confirmed the old 
<?oach driver. 

The Overland Riders uttered exclamations of 
amazement, for being above the clouds was a 
new experience to all except Grace Harlowe, 
who had once made a thrilling flight with Lieu- 
tenant Wingate on the French front. Emma 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 183 


Dean, however, declared that she could see 
nothing about fog to rave over, and it was diffi- 
cult to convince her that they really were en- 
veloped in clouds such as she had seen drifting 
above the mountain tops all that afternoon. 

Grace proposed that they turn in early that 
night in order to be up with the sun and get the 
benefit of the early morning view, which Ike 
Fairweather said was well worth seeing. 

1 6 Going to bed in the clouds! How roman- 
tic, ' ' murmured Anne. 

1 ‘Yes, but why get sentimental over it?” 
grinned Hippy. 

“Wouldn't it be awful were we to fall out of' 
bed?” suggested Emma. 

Ike Fairweather and Lieutenant Wingate 
took more than ordinary pains in staking down 
the horses for the night, even though the ani- 
mals were tethered so close to the camp that 
their every move might be heard by the camp- 
ers. Ike distinctly objected to making a second 
trip to Globe for a bunch of runaway ponies. 

While the men were engaged with the ponies, 
the Overton girls were chatting in Grace Har- 
lowe's tent, and Elfreda Briggs was dressing 
the wound on Grace's head. 

“It is really wonderful how rapidly a wound 
heals with you,” marvelled Miss Briggs. 

“I am well and strong, so why should it not 


184 


GRACE HARLOWE 


be so?” replied Grace. “I hope you take the 
bandage from my wound soon, because I wish 
to look nice when we reach the hotel at Roose- 
velt Lake. ’ 9 

“All is secure, sir,” announced Hippy from 
without. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” acknowledged 
Grace. “You will find food in the tin box in 
the store-tent, provided you get hungry in the 
night. ’ 9 

“Pleasant dreams, and do not fall out of 
bed, ’ 9 piped Emma. 

“If I do, you will hear me,” retorted Hippy. 

“Yes, we surely shall feel the mountain shake 
when you land, ’ 9 chuckled Anne. 

“Good-night, all,” called Hippy, and strode 
off laughing to himself, a chorus of good-nights 
following him. For an hour or more intermit- 
tent chattering was heard in the girls 9 tents. 
Through the open tent flaps they could see the 
cloud fog swirling about, and the damp, musty 
odor of the sky-mist was strong in their nostrils. 

‘ ‘ The glory of the mountains ! How I should 
love to spend all summer right on this wonder- 
ful spot,” murmured Grace, and, turning over, 
went quickly to sleep. 

Shortly after midnight Grace awakened, and 
lay gazing out at the drifting gray fog. 

“What was that?” Grace sat up suddenly, 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 185 


listening for a repetition of the sound that had 
disturbed her. 

What Grace had heard sounded to her like the 
rattle of a wagon, followed by a loud squeak, but 
the sound was not repeated. 

The Overton girl sprang up, dressed hur- 
riedly and buckled on her revolver holster. 
She then ran over to Lieutenant Wingate’s tent 
and softly called his name. There was no reply 
from within, nor could Grace hear breathing 
there. 

Thrusting a flash lamp through the tent open- 
ing, she swept the interior with a brief ray of 
light. The tent was unoccupied, and the blank- 
ets lay on the ground in a confused heap, indi- 
cating to her that Lieutenant Wingate had taken 
a hurried departure. 

“Something surely is going on, and Hippy 
has gone to investigate,” muttered Grace. 
‘ 1 That young man surely is improving. ’ 9 

Without an instant’s hesitation, Grace ran 
out and down the tote path, proceeding cau- 
tiously as she neared the trail, her step giving 
off no sound that could be heard a few yards 
away. 


186 


GRACE HARLOWE 


CHAPTER XVIII 

THE HARDEST BLOW OF ALL 

R EACHING the trail, Grace crept toward 
the point where the equipment wagon had 
been parked. 

She now understood the meaning of the sound 
that she had heard from her tent. The wagon 
was being turned, and again she heard what 
she recognized now as the squeal of a wagon’s 
king-bolt, accompanied by a low, guttural grunt. 

“Look out!” The command was low, but in- 
cisive. 

A jar and a crash followed, then something 
went thundering down the mountainside. 

“Some one has run the wagon off the trail 
into the canyon ! 9 9 gasped Grace Harlowe. 

Bang! A revolver shot caused Grace to duck. 
She had faintly seen the flash in the fog-cloud 
ahead of her, and the flash seemed to indicate 
that the weapon had been fired at her. 

Bang ! Bang! came two answering shots. 
“Hippy fired the first shot! I must get in ,’ 7 
cried Grace, pressing close to the rocks on the 
upper side of the trail, and creeping forward. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 187 


The firing on both sides was increasing in 
rapidity, and it was apparent that a hot fight 
was in progress. 

Four men suddenly ran past her, one being 
supported by a companion on either side, but 
she could barely discern the figures in the fog. 

“Halt!” commanded Grace sternly, bringing 
her weapon up in readiness to enforce her com- 
mand. 

The answer to her challenge was a shot, which 
Grace answered with a bullet from her bandit 
revolver, but in the mist all objects were dis- 
torted and her aim was bad. 

Another bullet, this time from the right, whis- 
tled over Grace Harlowe’s head, fired from 
Lieutenant Wingate’s weapon. Hippy had 
seen, and was firing at her. 

“Overland!” shouted the girl. 

4 4 Grace ! ’ 9 

“Yes. Hurry! We can get them. Don’t 
shoot till you catch up with me. Hurry, 
hurry ! ’ ’ 

4 4 1 winged one, ’ ’ gloated Hippy. 4 4 Give it to 
’em, Grace! They’ve dumped the wagon.” 

4 4 Don’t talk. Run, and keep your eyes 
open ! ’ ’ she admonished. 4 4 Take the outside of 
the trail. I ’ll hug the bank. ’ ’ 

The two started on at a fast, but cautious 
sprint. Ahead, they could hear voices. 


188 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“We have yon! Surrender!” shouted Lieu- 
tenant Wingate. 

Grace grinned as she ducked. She had 
ducked in good time, too, for two bullets an- 
swered Hippy ’s challenge. Both Hippy and 
Grace then opened up on their adversaries. 

The revolver reports had awakened the entire 
camp. Ike Fairweather had tumbled out of 
bed and sprang to Lieutenant Wingate’s tent. 
Finding it unoccupied, he reasoned that Hippy 
was in trouble down on the trail. The girls, 
by this time, had run from their tents, calling 
out to know what was wrong. 

“Don’t know. Stay here an’ look out for 
yerselves,” flung back Ike as he dashed down 
the slope toward the Apache Trail. 

“Awaken Grace,” called Anne excitedly. 

“I venture to say that Grace Harlowe is al- 
ready very much awake and down there in the 
thick of it, ’ ’ replied Miss Briggs calmly. 

1 ‘ She ’s gone ! ’ ’ wailed Emma, who had run to 
Grace’s tent to give the alarm. “Oh, I am so 
afraid something will happen to her.” 

“My Hippy has gone, too,” cried Nora 
Wingate. “They’ll be killed, both of them! I 
wish I never had come to this terrible place. ’ ’ 

“Did you stew like that when your husband 
was fighting Boches in France?” rebuked El- 
freda. 


ON, THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 189 


“No, but be isn’t fighting Bodies now.” 

“There they go at it again!” cried Anne. 
“This is almost as exciting as France. All one 
needs to make her believe she is back on the 
battle front is the explosion of a Hun shell.” 

Down on the Apache Trail the battle was be- 
ing waged with honors a little in favor of the 
Overlanders. Hippy had hit at least one of the 
prowlers. That he knew, but, so far, he and 
Grace had escaped without a bullet coming 
close enough to endanger them. One man was 
still working his revolver somewhere ahead of 
Hippy and Grace. 

“Let them have it before they get away,” she 
urged, whereupon Hippy began shooting into 
the fog with renewed vigor. 

“There they go!” cried Grace. “I heard 
them sliding down the bank. Come on! We 
may yet catch them. ’ ’ 

Hippy turned his revolver in the direction 
that Grace was pointing, and blazed away. 

‘ 4 Overland ! ’ ’ shouted a voice behind them in 
the new rallying cry of the outfit. 

“Here!” answered Hippy. “You are too 
late, Ike. The fun is all over.” 

“What happened, Lieutenant?” demanded 
the driver as he sprinted up to them. “I heard 
the shootin’ and lit out for the wagon, which I 
couldn ’t find hide nor hair of. ’ ’ 


190 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“You have lost your wagon, Mr. Fair- 
weather/ ? Grace informed him. 

“What’s thet you say!” 

1 ‘ They have dumped the wagon down into the 
canyon, and a good part of our equipment is 
with it, ’ * replied Grace. 

Ike, for the moment, was unable to find words 
appropriate to express his emotion, then, recov- 
ering his voice, he launched into a torrent of 
threats as he stamped about, shaking his 
clenched fists. 

“You will have to catch them before you 
carry out all those threats, Mr. Fairweather, ” 
reminded Grace. “Lieutenant, the scoundrels 
have a wounded man with them, and cannot 
move rapidly. Shall we go after them?” 

“ Yes, ” answered Hippy. ‘ ‘ Ike and I will go. 
You go back and reassure the girls, Brown 
Eyes.” 

‘ ‘ V ery good. Y ours is the better judgment . 9 9 

“I thought you would look at it that way,” 
observed Hippy. 

The two men quickly were swallowed up in 
the mist, and Grace turned toward the camp, 
more disturbed in mind than she cared to admit 
to herself. Should their assailants persist in 
their attacks on the outfit, it was reasonably cer- 
tain that one or more of the Overton party 
sooner or later would be wounded, or worse. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 191 


‘ ‘ Overland !” called Grace. The call was 
promptly answered from the camp, and Grace 
was met at the upper end of the tote path by a 
group of worried girls. She explained that 
Hippy, who had gone out to intercept the work 
of the night prowlers, had continued on with Ike 
Fairweather in pursuit of them. 

“What were those ruffians trying to do this 
time?” questioned Miss Briggs. 

“They not only tried, but they did,” an- 
swered Grace. “Girls, those rascals ran our 
equipment wagon off the trail and into the can- 
yon.” 

A chorus of “ohs” greeted the announce- 
ment. 

“Does this mean that we shall have to aban- 
don our trip?” anxiously asked Elfreda. 

“It does not, J. Elfreda. Did you ever know 
of an Overton girl to confess herself beaten?” 

“No. That is the last thing I should look 
for you to do.” 

“ Your question is answered. We are going 
to get that band of ruffians before the end of the 
Apache Trail is reached, or they will get us,” 
declared Grace. ‘ ‘ Please stir the fire and make 
coffee for our men. I am going down the tote 
trail to see that we are not surprised . 9 ’ 

Crouching beside the trail, Grace finally 
heard Hippy and Ike returning. 


192 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“They got away, but we exchanged shots with 
them,” called Hippy in reply to Grace’s hail. 
‘ 1 They went down into the canyon, but Ike said 
there was no use wasting time following them, 
for they know the ground better than we do. 
Sorry, but we did the best we could.” 

“You surely did all that any one could have 
done,” agreed Grace. “We might as well go 
back to camp, as Nora probably is worrying 
about you. The girls will have coffee for you 
when you get in. ’ ’ 

“I smell it, an’ it smells mighty good,” ex- 
claimed Ike. 

The coffee was ready for them when they ar- 
rived, and Anne was down on her knees toasting 
bread before a bed of coals. All hands immedi- 
ately sat down before the fire to take refresh- 
ment and to discuss their situation. 

“Right here, I wish to say to you, my friends, 
that we should recompense Mr. Fairweather for 
the loss of his wagon,” declared Grace. 

“Don’t want no recompense,” growled the 
old stagecoach driver. 

“Yes!” shouted the girls, and Hippy came 
along with a deep bass “yes.” 

Sudden concern appeared in the face of 
Emma Dean at this juncture. 

“Where is my black silk dress that was in the 
wagon?” she asked, half fearfully. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 193 


“Deep, deep down at the bottom of the can- 
yon ,” rumbled Lieutenant Wingate. 

Emma uttered a dismal wail. 

“Who’s going to pay me for my black silk? 
Who, I ask you, Grace Harlowe ? Who is going 
to recompense me?” 

The Overton girls burst out laughing. 

“Each of us has lost clothing, Emma,” com- 
forted Grace. “We have two changes right 
here with us, however, so why worry? Mr. 
Fairweather, is there a possibility of getting to 
the bottom of the canyon to salvage our cloth- 
ing?” 

“No use tryin’ it. Apaches will have it be- 
fore you can get it.” 

“Apaches?” questioned Lieutenant Wingate. 
“We haven’t seen one since we started, Mr. 
Fairweather. ’ ’ 

“Mebby not, but the Redskins have seen you 
folks. ’ ’ 

“Kiss your belongings good-bye, girls,” ad- 
vised Elfreda Briggs. “When next you see 
your raiment it perhaps will be beautifying 
some dusky maiden of the mountains. ’ ’ 

“Don’t s’pose you’ll need me any more now 
thet the wagon’s gone,” suggested Ike gloomily. 

“On the contrary, we wish you to continue 
through with us, Mr. Fairweather,” said Grace. 
“When we settle with you at Phoenix, we shall 

IS Grace Harlvwe on Apache Trail 


194 


GRACE HARLOWE 


make up to you any loss that you may have sus- 
tained.’ ’ 

Ike’s face brightened, not because of the 
promise to pay, but because the outfit did not 
intend to send him home. 

“ Thank you, folks. You make me right 
happy, you shore do. What do you reckon on 
doin’?” 

“Let me see. We must be about thirty miles 
from Roosevelt Lake now,” reflected Grace. 

“ ’Bout three mile short of thet,” nodded Ike. 

“Do you think we can pack what stuff we 
have left on your wagon horses and our 
ponies?” questioned Grace. 

“Reckon so.” 

“Of course we don’t care to carry much extra 
weight on the saddle animals, just light equip- 
ment, and if you cannot get through to Roose- 
velt to-day, we will make camp to-night and ride 
in to-morrow morning. ’ ’ 

Ike shook his head. 

“Nope. I can’t make it in a day, but you 
folks better ride right on in an’ stay at the 
Lodge. It’s a good tavern for these parts and 
it ain’t ever too full to hold some more. I’ll be 
’long ’bout eleven o’clock in the mornin’ the 
day after, an’ make camp for you all there.” 

1 ‘ Thank you. That difficulty is overcome. I 
propose that we now turn in. Girls, we have 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 195 


time for a beauty sleep before the rising of the 
sun, when I hope each of you will come out and 
enjoy the scene with me,” nodded Grace smil- 
ingly. 

The rest of the night passed without incident, 
and Ike sounded the getting-up call a few min- 
utes before sun-up. There followed a hurried 
dressing, some grumbling, and finally much 
laughter because Emma Dean, in her attempt at 
haste, got all tangled up in her garments. 

The Overland Riders, however, found them- 
selves well paid for their early rising. A scene, 
such as they had never dreamed existed, lay 
before them. A sea of clouds hid the valley and 
the lake, white, billowy, lazy clouds that were 
drifting slowly under the warmth of the rising 
sun. 

Above this white sea loomed the Four Peaks 
of the Apache Range, turned to red and gold by 
the morning sun, and, on beyond the Peaks, 
here and there a sapphire rock thrust its sharp 
point through the white billows. 

4 ‘How beautiful ! ’ 9 murmured Elf reda Briggs. 

“Beyond the power of words to express/ ’ 
replied Grace Harlowe, barely above a whisper. 

Anne linked arms with Grace and patted her 
hand, but spoke no word. Even the bare- 
headed, irrepressible Hippy seemed lost in 
silent admiration. Perhaps it was the beauty 


196 


GRACE HARLOWE 


of the scene, or perhaps it was that those bil- 
lowing clouds carried him back in memory to 
the bitter days when Lieutenant Wingate was 
fighting for life above just such clouds as these, 
high over the German lines in France. 

Grace finally sat down, chin in hand, lost in 
wonder, her whole being filled with an exulta- 
tion that she had known but once before, and 
then in a far different environment, when 
caught in a barrage at Chateau Thierry, when 
all the tremendous elements of the universe 
seemed to have joined in a mad medley. That 
was war, bitter, soul-racking war. This was 
peace, and she wondered that each should arouse 
in her emotions that were so much alike. 

“Ahem!” began Hippy Wingate impres- 
sively, and the spell was broken. “We are now 
standing — ” 

“You are mistaken. Some of us are sitting , 1 y 
corrected Emma Dean. 

“On the pinnacle of the Apache Trail, the 
most ancient trail on our continent. Well may 
this be called Oldest America, for men have 
traversed this route since remotest time, where 
the silence of eternity broods over the mesas 
and the canyons and the peaks. And where, 
with this wonderful scene that comes with the 
dawning of the day, all the mystery of the world 
seems brought together. Ahem!” 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 197 


A painful silence of several seconds was 
broken by the judicial voice of Elfreda Briggs. 

“I sentence the prisoner to ten years’ hard 
labor,” she announced. 

Shouts of laughter, and a cry from Emma 
that he should be sent up for life, put the Over- 
landers in a merry mood. Even Ike Fair- 
weather, whose eyes had grown large under the 
spell of Hippy’s oratory, permitted himself to 
indulge in a loud guffaw. 

After a rather hurried breakfast, the outfit 
began packing up for the start. It was not an 
easy task to pack the tents and equipment on 
the backs of the horses, in view of the fact that 
each animal, except the wagon horses, must also 
carry a rider. The work was finally accom- 
plished, however, each rider placing a pack of 
small stuff on her own back, in addition to the 
pack already lashed to the back of her pony. 

Before starting out, Grace induced Elfreda 
to remove the bandage from her head. The 
wound was found to be healed, much to the re- 
lief of both. 

Ike had made an early start, and two hours 
later the Overlanders galloped away, and then 
began the downward ride that would take them 
to the great artificial waterway, where both en- 
tertainment and adventure awaited them. 


198 


GRACE HABLOWE 


CHAPTER XIX 

HEROINES OF THE TRAIL 

O N the way to Roosevelt, before the Over- 
land girls caught up with him, Ike 
Fairweather had met a deputy sheriff 
and posse, who had been in the mountains look- 
ing for a horse thief, but were now returning to 
the place for which the Overlanders were 
headed. 

From Ike the deputy learned of the attacks 
on the Overland girls, and of their plucky de- 
fense. Ike, furthermore, became loquacious, 
told the officer all he knew about Grace Har- 
lowe and her friends, not forgetting the re- 
doubtable Hippy Wingate who had “shot down 
more German airplanes than any other man in 
the Allied armies.’ ’ 

When the deputy reached Roosevelt, he re- 
peated Ike ’s story at the Lodge, as the hotel at 
Roosevelt Lake was called, so, without their 
knowledge, the Overlanders ’ praises were sung 
there some hours in advance of their arrival. 
When the girls came up with Ike just before 
noon that day, and took luncheon with him, Mr. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 199 


Eairweather discreetly neglected to mention 
what he had told the deputy sheriff about them. 

Three hours later the Overland Riders 
reached the bottom of the grade to Roosevelt, 
rounded the “painted rocks” that stood senti- 
nel over the trail there, and walked their horses 
across the great spillway of Roosevelt Dam, 
more than three hundred yards in length, this, 
spillway releasing the surplus water from Lake 
Roosevelt, which is formed by the waters held 
im, check and backed up by Roosevelt Dam. 
The water in its nearly three hundred feet fall 
from the top of the spillway roared into Salt 
River Canyon, a miniature Niagara, sending up 
clouds of rainbow spray, the thunder of its fall 
echoing down the canyon for miles. 

Elfreda Briggs, who was riding by Grace’s 
side, leaned over and shouted into her com- 
panion’s ear: 

“Hippy can indulge in as much oratory as he 
pleases here. No one will hear him above the 
roar of the waterfall, for which much thanks.” 

Grace nodded and grinned. 

After crossing the spillway, the party turned 
to the right and followed a shining white trail 
along the edge of the lake to the Apache Lodge, 
which was located, they found, between the east 
and west arms of the lake. 

Some difficulty was experienced in finding a 


200 


GRACE HARLOWE 


place where they could stake down their ponies, 
hut finally succeeding in oethering the animals, 
they quickly removed the packs from the backs 
of “man, woman and beast, ” as Miss Briggs 
characterized it. 

“Lieutenant, if you do not mind going bare- 
headed, we will all walk over to the Lodge and 
see if they will let us in, ’ ’ said Grace. 

It was a dust-covered, brown-faced, bright- 
eyed party of girls who mounted the steps 
of. the veranda of the Lodge, where a group of 
tourists were enjoying the cool mountain air of 
the late afternoon. All eyes were turned on 
the newcomers. 

“The one with the brown hair is Grace Har- 
lowe. The man is the great American Ace,” 
Grace heard one of the tourists confide to a 
companion. 

The Overton girl gave the speaker a brief, 
steady look. 

“I will see if I can arrange for accommoda- 
tions for us here,” said Grace, turning to the 
young women of her party. “Perhaps it will 
be as well for you to wait on the veranda.” 

“Ask the proprietor if he has any old hats 
for sale,” suggested Hippy Wingate as Grace 
was entering the Lodge, at which there was an 
audible titter from several of the women guests 
of the place. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 201 


“Have you room, sir, for a party of six not 
very presentable persons ?” questioned Grace, 
smiling at the clerk. 

“For you, yes. I believe you are Mrs. Grace 
Harlowe Gray, are you not?” 

The Overton girl looked her amazement. 
“May I ask how you know my name, sir? ” 
“The deputy sheriff told me that you and 
your party were on the way here. How many 
rooms do you require ? ’ ’ 

1 ‘ Three with baths. I do not know how long 
we shall remain, but probably not longer than 
some time to-morrow. We shall go into camp 
when what is left of our equipment arrives. ’ ’ 
“Yes, I understand that you ladies have had 
a mishap,” volunteered the clerk. 

“Is there anything that this man doesn’t 
know about us?” she wondered. To the clerk 
she said: “We shall need a reliable man to 
watch our horses to-night. Will you be so kind 
as to send some one to us, some person who is 
to be depended upon?” 

The clerk said he would, and that the rooms 
for the party would be ready whenever they de- 
sired to take possession. 

Grace returned to the veranda, and, as she 
stepped out, she halted and gazed in amazement. 
Elfreda, Hippy and the others of her party 
were speaking with a tall, bronzed man of dis- 


202 


GRACE HARLOWE 


tinguished appearance. With him were a gen- 
tleman and three ladies. Grace recognized him 
of the distinguished bearing instantly. 

“General Gordon! How do you do!” she 
greeted, flushing with pleasure. 

The general strode forward and grasped both 
her hands. 

“My dear Mrs. Gray, I am happy beyond 
words to see you again. This is my wife ; and 
Colonel Cartwright, the colonel's sister, and 
Mrs. Cartwright. The colonel served with us 
in France, but I believe you never met him, 
which was a misfortune for both.” 

1 1 This young woman , ’ 9 announced the general 
to his friends, but in a tone of voice loud enough 
to be heard by most persons on the veranda, 
i 1 saved my life on the battlefield in the Argonne. 
Had it not been for her, I should not be here. I 
have already told Mrs. Gordon the story . 9 9 

“Please, General,” begged Grace, flushing 
with embarrassment, but the general went on 
unheeding. 

“Mrs. Gray dragged me into a deserted Ger- 
man machine-gun nest after I had been wounded 
on the field, manned a machine gun and held 
the Boches off until she could flash Morse sig- 
nals to our lines that night. We were, at that 
time, being fired upon by both armies. A 
braver woman does not live. ’ 9 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 203 


“Suppose we speak of the beauties of the Old 
Apache Trail, ’ ’ suggested Grace, which brought 
a hearty laugh from all, and relieved the tension 
under which she was suffering. 

“When I heard that Grace Harlowe Gray and 
her friends of the Overton Unit had proved them- 
selves the heroines of the trail, I said, ‘That’s 
our Grace Harlowe, the doughboys’ Grace Har- 
lowe, ’ and I was glad. You must join our party 
this evening and we will talk war, ’ ’ he urged. 

“Grace, here is an Indian who wishes to 
speak with you, ’ ’ interrupted Hippy. 

‘ ‘ Me take care ponies, ’ ’ said the Indian. ‘ ‘ Me 
J oe Smoky Face. ’ ’ 

“Do you work about the Lodge?” questioned 
Grace. 

“Yes.” 

“I will see the clerk about you. Please ex- 
cuse me for a moment. ’ ’ Grace stepped briskly 
into the Lodge, followed by Lieutenant Wingate 
and the Indian. During her absence, the gen- 
eral briefly related the story, as he knew it, of 
the work of the Overton Unit in France. 

“I think the man understands what is re- 
quired of him. The clerk says he is depend- 
able, ’ ’ announced Grace upon her return to the 
veranda. “The horses being arranged for, I 
think we will go to our quarters now, if you will 
excuse us, General. ’ ’ 


204 


GEACE HAELOWE 


“You will join us at dinner, Mrs. Gray?” 
questioned the general. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

The Overton girls went to their rooms, not to 
appear again until just before dinner time. 
Wearing fresh uniforms, well groomed, eyes 
sparkling, cheeks tinged with faint flushes, they 
elicited a murmur of approval from the tourists 
as they stepped out on the veranda to join Gen- 
eral Gordon and his party. 

“Mess is served,” announced the general. 

“Yes, but oh, so different,” laughingly re- 
plied Grace Harlowe. 

At the general’s request, one table had been 
set to accommodate the two parties, and the 
dinner proved to be a happy occasion for all. 
At the general’s suggestion, it was decided that 
the two parties should take a launch trip the 
length of Lake Eoosevelt on the following morn- 
ing. The general said he would charter a 
launch, that they would take their luncheons 
with them and have a real picnic at the mouth of 
Tonto Creek at the upper end of the lake, thirty 
miles away. 

A delightful evening was passed at the Lodge 
where Grace and the general exchanged war 
reminiscences, after which the girls went to 
their quarters for the night. Hippy strolled 
out to look over the ponies and to give Joe 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 205 


Smoky Face final instructions, then returned to 
the Lodge and went to bed. 

The Overton girls were sound asleep by then. 
It was the first night, since they started over the 
Apache Trail, that they had been free from 
nerve-strain, but there were other nights com- 
ing, nights that they felt would hold a full meas- 
ure of excitement and adventure for them, and 
none realized this possibility better than did 
Grace Harlowe herself. 


CHAPTER XX 

THE MYSTERIOUS ARROW 

R 'VHE end of a perfect day,” breathed 
Elfreda Briggs, as the launch bearing 
the Overland Riders and General Gor- 
don *s party rounded a point of land, and the 
Lodge, for which they were now heading, stood 
out white against its dark background of moun- 
tains. 

The voyage over the blue waters of Lake 
Roosevelt, and the picnic at the upper end of 
the lake, had been most enjoyable. Nothing 
had occurred to mar the pleasure of the sixty- 
mile voyage, through enchanting scenery. 


206 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“I think Miss Briggs has echoed the senti- 
ments of all of us,” spoke up Anne. 

‘ ‘ It would have been just our luck to have had 
the old boat sink under us,” differed Emma, 
amid much laughter. 

“ There ’s our camp,” Hippy informed them. 
“Ike has arrived and is ready for us.” 

All eyes were turned toward the shore, where 
the little white tents of the Overland Riders 
nestled at the base of the mountains, close to 
the water ’s edge, the camp having been pitched 
a short quarter of a mile up the lake from the 
Lodge. 

“It looks good to me,” declared the general. 
“I envy you young women the life you are lead- 
ing out here, and wish I might be so fortunate 
as to belong to your outfit. ’ y 

“You’d regret it,” chuckled Emma Dean. 

“Try me and see,” the general came back 
quickly. 

“Very well, we will take you at your word, 
General,” answered Grace. “This evening 
you shall have mess with the Overland Riders 
in their camp. We shall undoubtedly be on 
short rations still, but that is a part of the life.” 

‘ 1 Good ! I accept , 9 9 nodded the general. 

* 4 The invitation includes all of your party, of 
course,” said Grace, glancing inquiringly at the 
smiling faces around the cockpit of the launch. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 207 


“I know it will be a delightful experience,” 
declared Mrs. Cartwright. 

“Wonderful!” added Miss Cartwright. 

“I, for one, already have accepted, in my own 
mind,” nodded the generaPs wife. 

“Having lost our wagon with most of our 
table ware, we cannot offer you any luxuries. 
We have only our mess kits, and the plates in 
them will barely go around. It may be neces- 
sary for two persons to eat from the same 
plate,” added Grace mischievously. 

“May we sleep at the camp to-night? I 
should so dearly love to sleep in a tent in the 
open,” declared Miss Cartwright. 

“I fear it will be too cold for you. We will 
speak of it later, however. After you have 
spent a few hours in camp and partaken of our 
fare, you may not wish to remain over night.” 

“Of course you are desirous of visiting the 
ancient homes of the cliff dwellers up yonder?” 
questioned Mrs. Gordon, pointing to the moun- 
tains. 

“Yes, indeed. I hope to do some exploring 
there, too,” answered Grace. “When we land 
at the Lodge, if you good people will wait on 
the veranda for me, I will run over to the camp 
and see what shape we are in, then call for you 
later,” suggested Grace as they neared the 
landing place. 


208 


GRACE HARLOWE 


Grace and Hippy left their party at the Lodge 
pier and hurried to the camp. 

“We are to have company for mess this eve- 
ning, Mr. Fairweather. How well are we sup- 
plied with provisions ? ’ 9 she asked. 

The old stagecoach driver said they had 
bacon, canned beans and coffee, but not much of 
anything else. 

‘ ‘ See if you can purchase something more at 
the Lodge, especially potatoes. Lid you find 
an Indian here taking care of the ponies V 9 

“Joe Smoky Face, as he called himself, was 
here lookin’ after the ponies, but when I came 
he went away. Don’t like them Apaches. Bad 
medicine, every one of ’em.” 

“Joe is said to be trustworthy,” said Grace. 

“Good Indians wear white men’s dress. 
This Redskin dresses like what he is — an 
Apache — an’ he lives with his tribe up the 
mountain,” growled Ike. 

“Why worry about Indians?” interjected 
Lieutenant Wingate. “Food and more food is 
the burning question of the hour. ’ ’ 

Grace directed the driver to take one of the 
horses and fetch some potatoes and some few 
other necessaries from the Lodge. 

“It is quite probable that we shall be here for 
a few days, so nothing in the way of food need 
be left behind, ’ ’ she told him. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 209 


Following Ike’s departure, Grace and Hippy 
began putting the finishing touches to the camp. 
Blankets were neatly rolled and placed on the 
folding cots; a fancy paper spread was laid 
over the rough table that Ike had constructed 
for them, and paper napkins laid at each plate. 
A bunch of wild asters, set between two stones, 
to keep them from toppling over, completed the 
table decorations. 

“ There!” announced Grace, surveying the 
result of her labors. “We may not be strong 
on food, but we have decorations. Perhaps the 
guests may overlook the mere matter of food,” 
she added laughingly. 

By the time the camp was in order, Ike came 
trotting up with his pack animal. He had a 
bushel of potatoes, and some fresh vegetables 
from which Grace prepared a salad, and while 
she was doing this, Ike thrust the potatoes into 
hot ashes to bake. 

‘ ‘ The young ladies will be here to help to fin- 
ish getting the supper ready, Mr. Fairweather. 
I shall return at seven with our company. One 
of the guests is General Gordon, a brave soldier 
whom I met on the battlefield in the Argonne. 
The other is Colonel Cartwright, another vali- 
ant soldier of the late war. I thought you 
might be interested in knowing something about 
these men, for they are real men.” 

H Grace Harlowe on Apache Trail 


210 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“Just like myself,” added Hippy. 

“Yes, Hippy, I agree with you there. Shall 
you go to the Lodge with me ? I think you had 
best do so as the ladies may need assistance 
over the rough ground between here and the 
Lodge. Mr. Fairweather, our guests may con- 
clude that they wish to stay all night. If so, we 
ladies will sleep in one tent, giving the guests 
the cots and most of the blankets. What is 
your opinion of the weather?” 

* ‘ Might rain. ’ 9 

“I am of the same opinion. However, what’s 
the odds ? Come, Hippy ! 9 9 

Reaching the Lodge, Grace directed the girls 
to go to camp and have the supper ready to be 
served at seven o’clock sharp, telling them of 
the preparations that already had been made. 

She then sat down to wait for her friends, who 
were still in their rooms. There were any num- 
ber of persons who welcomed the opportunity 
to engage the Overland Rider in conversation, 
which at once turned to war subjects. What 
Grace had to say about the war, however, did 
not concern herself, but had to do with General 
Gordon’s achievements on the western front. 

“Won’t you please tell us, Mrs. Gray, how 
you won the French war cross and the distin- 
guished service medal?” begged a lady cour- 
teously. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 211 


“General Gordon evidently lias been talking 
out of meetin’," laughed Grace. “Please ex- 
cuse me from speaking of myself. Surely, you 
realize that it would be most embarrassing to 
me to speak of myself." 

The lady begged her pardon, and declared 
that it was rude of her to have asked the ques- 
tion. Grace smiled and began telling her ques- 
tioner of the work of the Overton Unit, and of 
Lieutenant Wingate's valiant services in the 
army flying corps. This led to stories of the 
war, and when General Gordon and his party 
came down he found nearly all the guests of the 
Lodge gathered about the Overton College girl, 
listening to her praise, not only of the Overton 
girls, but of the young men of America, who had 
fought the great fight. 

“Are we late!" asked Mrs. Gordon, extend- 
ing her hand. 

“No, you are in good time, but I think we 
should start now. Where is Lieutenant Win- 
gate? I have not seen him since we reached 
the hotel." 

“Some one said he was seen trying to borrow 
a hat from the chef to wear to supper," an- 
swered a male voice. 

“That is the army spirit of freedom," nodded 
Grace. ‘ 1 Incidentally it is like Lieutenant Win- 
gate. He lost his hat on the way in, and the 


212 


GRACE HARLOWE 


wagon that carried most of our wearing apparel 
lies at the bottom of a canyon. We will be go- 
ing. If you ladies and gentlemen care to visit 
our camp we shall be glad to have you do so to- 
morrow/ * added Grace courteously, turning to 
the guests to whom she had been telling war 
stories. 

“Here comes the lieutenant/ ’ informed the 
man who had told Grace where he had last seen 
Hippy. The lieutenant wore a derby hat, a full 
size too small for him, and this, crowning his 
army uniform, made him look ridiculous. 

A laugh greeted his appearance. 

Hippy’s face wore a severe expression. He 
offered his arm to Miss Cartwright with grace 
and dignity. At least that was what he in- 
tended it to be, but Grace thanked the kind fates 
that Emma Dean was not present to express her 
opinion of Hippy’s appearance before all the 
guests of the hotel. 

“Have you decided to remain with us to- 
night, General?” asked Grace. 

“Mrs. Gordon and myself and Miss Cart- 
wright will accept your hospitality, if you are 
certain that we shall not be crowding you. ’ ’ 

“There is plenty of room in the mountains,” 
answered Grace with a wave of the hand. 
“You are used to campaigning, General, but I 
hope the ladies will not regret their decision.” 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 213 


They assured Grace that they would not ; so 
the party started out full of anticipation for 
the new experience that lay before them. 

The general, when they reached the camp, 
turned to Grace with eyes twinkling. 

“I would know, even did I not know that this 
was your camp, that some one who had been 
with the forces, had laid it out,” he said. 

“Old Mr. Fairweather, our driver, laid it 
out,” answered Grace mischievously. 

“He is an apt pupil,” returned the general. 

“You win, General,” laughed Grace. 

“Isn’t this delightful?” cried Miss Cart- 
wright. “And look at the table. Pardon my 
ill manners, but this is so different from what I 
expected to find in — in — ” 

“In a traveling circus,” finished Emma amid 
laughter. 

“Oh, the worst is yet to come,” observed 
Hippy. 

Grace introduced Mr. Fairweather to their 
guests, who shook hands cordially with the old 
stagecoach driver. 

“Are the potatoes done?” whispered Grace. 

Ike nodded. 

Odors of frying bacon and the aroma of coffee 
were in the air, and, when Grace announced that 
the guests were to be seated, the summons was 
quickly answered. Grace had brought a pound 


214 


GRACE HARLOWE 


of butter with her from the Lodge, a luxury that 
the Overland girls themselves had not enjoyed 
since the first day out from Globe. 

“I haven ’t had such an appetite since I left 
France,’ * declared the general. 

“ Perhaps you have not had so much exercise 
and fresh air in any one day since then,” sug- 
gested Elfreda. 

‘ ‘ Possibly that explains it, ’ ’ replied the officer 
dryly. 

The supper went along merrily, the stock of 
bacon being considerably depleted when finally 
the guests refused another helping, and, at 
Grace ’s invitation, rose and strolled over to the 
cheerful campfire, where they sat down, the men 
to smoke their pipes and the women to chat. 

It was ten o’clock when Colonel Cartwright 
said he must be getting back to the Lodge. He 
added that there was dancing there, and invited 
the Overland girls to go over and dance, but 
Grace declined for her party, saying that they 
had a strenuous day ahead of them, as they 
wished to explore the cliff dwellers’ homes on 
the morrow. Grace had further plans in mind 
regarding the explorations, but she said noth- 
ing to her guests about it. 

4 ‘General,” said Grace, calling the officer 
aside before the colonel and his wife took their 
leave. “It looks like a storm to-night. I wish 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 215 


you and Mrs. Gordon to remain if you desire to 
do so, but we may have a wet time of it.” 

“An old campaigner like myself doesn’t mind 
a little thing like a wetting. You should know 
that.” 

“I am not thinking of you, but of Mrs. Gor- 
don and Miss Cartwright. ’ ’ 

“Both good scouts,” answered the general. 

“Campers’ fare will be yours then, sir. 
Good-night, Colonel and Mrs. Cartwright. We 
shall be happy to have you join us for mess at 
any time . 9 9 

Before leaving, the colonel invited the Over- 
land girls to have dinner with him at the Lodge 
on the following evening and remain for the 
dance. 

Grace said they could not think of it, so far 
as the dinner was concerned, but that, if they 
were not too tired, they would go over for the 
dance. 

The Gordons and Miss Cartwright resumed 
their positions by the campfire after the colonel 
and his wife, escorted by Hippy, still wearing 
his derby hat, started towards the Lodge. 

The fire was blazing up cheerfully, and before 
it the girls of the Overton Unit sat and talked 
with the guests of their campaigning days in 
France. 

Something whistled down from the air, and 


216 


GRACE HARLOWE 


every person in the outfit heard the thud when 
it struck the ground. 

“ A stone from the mountain,’ ’ said the gen- 
eral. 

“I think not,” replied Grace, getting up. 

“It fell right near where you’re standin’,” 
called Ike Fairweather as Grace began looking 
about her alertly. “Looked like a stick.” 

“Ah! I see it.” Grace sprang forward, 
followed by General Gordon, and, with her 
pocket lamp, examined the object that had so 
mysteriously fallen among them. 

‘ 1 An arrow ! ’ ’ exclaimed the general. ‘ ‘ Prob- 
ably a spent arrow from the Indian camp.” 

“The Indian camp is too far away for that, 
sir,” replied Grace. 

“Broken, isn’t it, Mrs. Gray?” questioned 
the officer, stooping over to pluck the missile 
from the ground. 

“Wait!” warned the Overton girl. She ex- 
amined the arrow as it stood doubled over at 
the break, which was about midway of the shaft, 
then withdrew the point and carried the whole 
to the campfire for further examination. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 217 


CHAPTER XXI 

A NIGHT OF THRILLS 

AFTER a careful scrutiny of the arrow, 
Grace glanced up at the general, who was 
regarding her inquiringly. 

“ What do you find?” he asked. 

“That the arrow has been weakened in the 
middle by a cut with a knife. It appears to 
have been the intention of the person who shot 
it, that it should break on striking the ground. 
You can see that the cut is a fresh one, probably 
made only a little while ago. ’ ’ 

“Yes, so I observe. What does that sig- 
nify ?” 

“I am not well posted on Indian lore, but I 
do know that, with the Chinese, a broken stick 
or twig cast before one is a warning. Mr. Fair- 
weather, will you please come here ! ’ ’ 

Ike stepped over and stood frowningly re- 
garding the shaft that Grace was holding up 
for his inspection. 

‘ 1 This is an Indian arrow, is it not, Mr. Fair- 
weather ?” she asked. 

“Yes.” 


218 


GRACE HARLOWE 


4 4 What does it mean when an Indian shoots 
an arrow with such a break as this in it?” 

4 4 Trouble !” answered the stagecoach driver 
without hesitation. 44 It*s a warning, Mrs. 
Gray. ’ , 

44 Then it must have come from an Indian who 
feels kindly toward us. What I do not under- 
stand is, why, if he wished to give us warning of 
something, he did not come to us with it . ’ 9 

4 4 Indians is queer critters,” observed Ike 
wisely. 4 4 There ’s no accountin' for Indians, 
and ’specially Apaches . 9 9 

4 4 1 think I agree with you, ’ 9 answered Grace, 
rewarding the old man with a smile. 4 4 Please 
see to it that the ponies are well staked. Noth- 
ing more, Mr. Fairweather . 9 9 

After the driver had walked away, Grace 
leaned back and laughed. 

44 I have a feeling, General, that before this 
night ends you will be wishing that you had re- 
mained at the Lodge , 9 9 chuckled Grace. 

4 4 Oh, no, nothing like that, Mrs. Gray. I 
should enjoy a little excitement. It has been a 
long time since the armistice was signed, and 
with it the real joy of trying to live, passed.” 

4 4 Yes, I agree with you.” Excusing herself, 
as Hippy came up and sat down to chat with 
the general while the girls were entertaining 
Mrs. Gordon and Miss Cartwright, Grace 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 219 


walked over to Ike who was restaking the 
horses. 

“We hope to do some mountain climbing to- 
morrow, and if we do so I shall require several 
hundred feet of light, strong rope. Please see 
if you can get it for me. What do you think?” 
asked Grace, nodding toward the sky. 

1 i Mountain squall, I reckon. ’ 9 

* 4 More than a squall, I should say. However, 
you know more about the mountain weather 
than I do. And, confidentially, Mr. Fair- 
weather, that broken arrow leads me to believe 
that it would be good judgment for you to take 
a rifle to bed with you to-night,” suggested 
Grace. 

Ike grinned and nodded. 

Returning to her guests, Grace suggested to 
them that it might be well to turn in, as a busy 
day was before them for the morrow. 

‘ 4 General, you and the lieutenant will occupy 
the small tent to the right ; the ladies will take 
the middle one, and we girls will occupy the 
large outside tent. I hope you will sleep well. 
Lieutenant, please show the general to his sleep- 
ing place. ’ y 

Half an hour later the Overland girls were 
chattering in low tones in their own tent. 
Hippy and the general were already snoring in 
theirs, while the two women guests were having 


220 


GRACE HARLOWE 


some difficulty in getting to sleep in their 
strange surroundings. 

Grace had thrown herself down on her cot 
where she lay pondering on the mystery of the 
broken arrow. After half an hour of this she 
got up to have a look at the weather before 
turning in for the night, observing that the 
campfire, fanned by a breeze from the moun- 
tains, was flickering and snapping as if in pro- 
test at being disturbed. 

Shading her eyes with a hand and gazing up 
to the mountains, Grace saw dark clouds swirl- 
ing about the Four Peaks in the distance, and 
heard a deep-throated, far away roar of thun- 
der. A dull red flash on the opposite side of the 
range of mountains reminded her of flashes 
from the big guns on the battle front. 

“I think we are going to catch it,” observed 
the Overland girl. “Can it be that the arrow 
was a storm warning?” Grace dismissed the 
thought as improbable, and, returning to her 
tent, laid aside her clothes and got into bed. 
She was awakened some two hours later by tre- 
mendous gusts of wind, accompanied by flap- 
ping canvas and a heavy downpour of rain. 

Lightning flashes were outlining the black 
clouds, and crashes of thunder reverberated 
from peak to peak, seeming finally to lose them- 
selves in the black depths of the canyons. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 221 


Grace got up and dressed, and, putting on her 
slicker, stepped out. The raindrops beat on 
her face, stinging like tiny hailstones. 

The ponies were whinneying and rearing, so 
Grace stepped over and tried to quiet them, and 
there Ike Fairweather found her as she stood 
revealed when a flash of lightning deluged the 
camp with a blinding light. 

“That you, Mrs. Gray?” he called, uncertain 
just which one of the outfit it was that he saw. 

“Yes.” Grace had to shout to make herself 
heard above the roar of the gale. “Where is 
the lieutenant?” 

1 1 Sleepin ’. Think the tents will hold ? ’ ’ ques- 
tioned Ike anxiously. 

“I hope so. Please look after the horses. I 
will rout out the lieutenant and see what we can 
do to keep the tents down, especially the one 
occupied by General Gordon’s wife and com- 
panion. 

Grace ran back and called Hippy. The gen- 
eral heard the call and answered first. 

“Heavy storm, sir,” Grace informed him. 
“Hippy, please hurry out. I need you.” 

“Wha — at is it? Is Jerry coming?” an- 
swered Hippy Wingate sleepily. 

The general laughed. 

“It is bad, isn’t it? What do you wish me to 
do, Mrs. Gray?” he asked. 


222 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“We must try to hold down Mrs. Gordon’s 
tent, but I fear we shall lose some of our can- 
vas. ’ ’ 

“There goes one already !” cried the general, 
as the tent he and Lieutenant Wingate had oc- 
cupied puffed out like a balloon and disappeared 
in the darkness. The lieutenant made no effort 
to recover it, but ran calling to Grace to know 
where she was. 

“Sit on the stakes. Hold the guests 9 tent 
down at all hazards , 9 9 she cried. 

Elfreda had taken charge of the tent occu- 
pied by the Overland girls, and was hurrying 
her companions with their dressing. They had 
barely finished dressing, when the tent pulled 
its stakes and toppled over. 

“Grab it! Don’t let it get away!” shouted 
Miss Briggs. 

“What was that?” cried General Gordon, 
when, during a brief lull in the storm, his ears 
caught a familiar whistling sound. 

“A bullet, sir,” answered Grace promptly. 
“Watch out for the next gust of wind. It’s 
going to be a severe one.” 

“There they c’ome again!” exclaimed the 
general, as bullets began spraying the camp. 

Grace sprang to the tent occupied by Mrs. 
Gordon, which Hippy was doing his best to 
hold down. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 223 


“Lie flat on the ground, Mrs. Gordon !” she 
shouted. “ We ’re under fire. ’ ’ 

At about the same instant Elfreda Briggs was 
uttering a similar warning to the girls in her 
charge. 

The gun-fire grew hotter, continued so for a 
few moments, then suddenly ceased as a fresh 
blast of storm swept down on the camp from 
the mountains, and then, despite all their ef- 
forts, the tent that Grace and the two men were 
now holding, gave way under the tremendous 
power of the wind. 

Mrs. Gordon and Miss Cartwright, while thor- 
oughly frightened, were too plucky to make any 
outcry, and, after a few moments of lively work, 
the general and Hippy, with some assistance 
from Grace, succeeded in saving the tent. 

About that time the rain dwindled to a 
sprinkle, and bullets again began to spatter 
about the camp. Uttering an exclamation, 
Grace ran for her rifle, which she thrust into 
Hippy Wingate’s hand. 

“Look!” Grace pointed up at a spot on the 
mountains. “Look closely and you will see the 
flashes of the rifles that are shooting at us. 
Every time you see a flash, shoot at it ! ’ ’ 

Hippy located the flashes instantly, and be- 
gan firing at them, Grace observing and offering 
suggestions. 


224 


GRACE HARLOWE 


‘ 4 What is he shooting at?” questioned the 
general. 

“At the flashes of the guns up yonder on the 
mountain. If your eye is quick enough you can 
see them.” 

General Gordon, who had reasurred Mrs. 
Gordon and her companion by telling them that 
the storm had about blown itself out, at the 
same time cautioning both to keep down close 
to the ground so long as the shooting lasted, 
watched Lieutenant Wingate’s work with the 
rifle with interest. 

After Hippy had twice emptied the magazine 
of the rifle, the fog clouds blotted out the peaks 
of the mountains and slowly settled down, draw- 
ing a mantle over the point from which the bul- 
lets had been coming, whereupon the fire from 
the mountains ceased and Lieutenant Wingate 
laid down his rifle. 

4 6 I hope that ends it for to-night , 9 ’ said Grace. 
“I think the fog will hold pretty much as it is, 
so the next thing is a campfire if we can find 
enough fuel to start one.” 

Ike was already engaged in this task. Gen- 
eral Gordon, in the meantime, was assisting 
Mrs. Gordon and Miss Cartwright over to the 
fire which Ike was fanning into life with his 
sombrero. 

“I am so sorry, Mrs. Gordon,” sympathized 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 225 


Grace, as the general’s wife began shaking out 
her wet, wrinkled skirt. 

Mrs. Gordon laughed. 

“I am quite willing to suffer such slight dis- 
comfort for the privilege of seeing this outfit at 
work in an emergency,” she declared. 

Grace suggested to the general that it might 
be advisable to take the ladies back to the Lodge 
for the rest of the night. 

“No, no, no!” protested Miss Cartwright. 
“I, for one, propose to see it through.” 

“So do I,” approved Mrs. Gordon. 

Elfreda, who had found the makings, was 
brewing tea over the fire and Anne was toasting 
crackers on the other side of it. 

* ‘ Storm, bullets, then tea and crackers ! Isn’t 
this romantic?” cried Miss Cartwright. “You 
young ladies surely do know how to do things.” 

The warmth of the campfire, and the refresh- 
ments, put new spirits into the party, and they 
were now able to laugh over their plight. The 
guests, however, were at a loss to understand 
why any one should wish to shoot at the camp 
of the Overland Riders. 

“I cannot comprehend how they were able to 
place their bullets right in the camp in all that 
darkness and storm,” wondered Mrs. Gordon. 

‘ ‘ Their rifles undoubtedly were aimed and set 
before dark,” answered Lieutenant Wingate. 

15 Grace Harlow e on Apache Trail 


226 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“The broken arrow, General / ’ reminded 
Grace, nodding to General Gordon. 

“Hm — m — m — m!” mused the World-war 
veteran. 

The rest of the night was passed by the camp- 
ers with some discomfort, but without further 
disturbance, the tops of the mountains being 
hidden from sight by the cloud fog until the 
morning sun cleared away the mists, when a 
glorious day was in prospect. 

“No clitf -dwelling explorations to-day, 
girls ! ’ ’ cried Elf reda next morning. “We shall 
have to do our family washing and ironing this 
morning . 9 1 

“If we do I know of one who will have to stay 
in bed during the process,” piped Emma. “I 
haven’t been able to find my everyday skirt, and 
I suppose that too has been blown off into the 
canyon, perhaps to keep my black silk com- 
pany. 9 9 

Soon after breakfast, Colonel and Mrs. Cart- 
wright came over, they having been much con- 
cerned for their friends upon learning that a 
severe mountain storm had swept the valley in 
the night. The colonel urged all hands to have 
dinner with him at the Lodge, but the girls de- 
clined, saying that they had work for every min- 
ute of the day, so their guests left after ob- 
taining a promise from Grace that she and her 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 227 


friends would attend the dance at the Lodge 
that evening. 

‘ ‘ I have an idea, and to-morrow I shall try to 
put it to the test,” murmured Grace, using her 
glasses in a long, searching study of the moun- 
tains to the rear of the camp. 

It was a hard day’s work that the Overland 
girls did, but when night came they were ready 
for the entertainment at the Lodge, and were as 
well groomed as though they had but just come 
from their own dressing rooms at home. 

“I do not know how you do it. It is wonder- 
ful, ’ 9 exclaimed Miss Cartwright in greeting to 
the Overlanders upon their arrival at the Lodge. 

The dance lasted until half after eleven 
o ’clock, and the girls declared that they had not 
had such a delightful evening since their last 
hop at Overton College. 

“Come out and get shotted with us,” urged 
Emma Dean as they were about to take their de- 
parture for the camp. 

That night the Overland party was treated to 
another deluge of bullets, hut the firing did no 
damage, beyond putting a hole through the pup- 
tent occupied by Ike Fairweather. All hands, 
despite their loss of sleep, were up early on the 
following morning making preparation for their 
journey to the homes of the ancient Cliff Dwell- 
ers where an exciting day awaited them. 


228 


GRACE HARLOWE 


CHAPTER XXII 

RELICS OF AN ANCIENT RACE 

T HE Gordons and Cartwrights had en- 
gaged a conveyance to take them to the 
point on the Apache Trail where they 
must turn off and walk about a mile to reach 
the homes of the Cliff Dwellers. The Overland 
Riders preferred to ride their ponies, Ike tak- 
ing his team to carry himself and the rations 
for the day. 

Tucked away with the equipment was a strong 
rope several hundred feet in length, Ike, at 
Grace ’s request, having provided this and other 
equipment without asking too many questions. 

An early start was made, both parties reach- 
ing the turning-off place at about the same time, 
and shortly thereafter a merry company, carry- 
ing picnic baskets, was ascending the steep, nar- 
row trail that led to the Tonto Cliff Dwellings. 

They found the first of the two main groups 
of prehistoric community dwellings free of tour- 
ists, and the Overton College girls stood in awe 
as they gazed on the massive masonry of this 
relic of an unknown past. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 229 


“Are you familiar with the history of these 
cliff dwellings, Mrs. Gray?” asked the general. 

“I must confess that I am not wholly familiar 
with the subject, sir. Will you tell us what you 
know about them ? 9 1 

“No one knows of their beginning, nor of the 
people who inhabited them. We do know that 
Coronado ’s Scouts discovered them nearly four 
hundred years ago. The Coronado Scouts, it is 
said, believed that they found the frontier for- 
tresses of that rich kingdom of Tontonteac, 
which was one of the seven they sought . 9 9 

1 ‘ The dwellings were not then occupied, were 
they?” asked Anne. 

“Oh, no,” responded the general. “They 
were in ruins as you see them now, so you can 
form some idea of the antiquity of the dwell- 
ings. 9 9 

“Do you know whether or not the Cliff Dwell- 
ers were here ahead of the Indians, sir?” asked 
Grace. 

“It is supposed that they vrere, for the In- 
dians of the present day do not even know of 
them in legend. The dwellers must have had 
enemies, man or beast, for you see they built 
their castles in out-of -reach spots. They 
builded them well, too, high under leaning walls 
of rock, of blocked stone, set with strong adobe 
mortar. They were architects, and they were 


230 


GRACE HARLOWE 


builders, were those ancients,” declared the 
general. 

“ A peculiar feature of their homes is that 
each community lived in a community house, 
said to have included sixty to seventy rooms. 
The three dwellings that are accessible do not 
show what the inner arrangements were, but a 
fourth one, that has never been explored, is be- 
lieved to be in a better state of preservation.” 

“That is the one I propose to have a look at,” 
declared Grace. 

“I suspected as much,” nodded the general. 
“Don’t try it, is my advice. You don’t know T 
what kind of a precipice one would have to pass 
over to get there. ’ ’ 

“I know the precipice, for I have examined it 
through my glasses, but I am not convinced that 
there is no other entrance to the place. ’ ’ 

‘ 4 What makes you think that ? ’ ’ 

“The formation of the sheer wall that falls 
away from their front dooryard shows that it 
has been in that same condition for perhaps 
thousands of years, and probably was in the 
same condition in the days of the Cliff Dwellers. 
Suppose we have our luncheon here and then 
have a look at the top of this unknown cliff 
home.” 

All through the luncheon that was eaten in an 
ancient community house, with the magnificent 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 231 


view of mountain and canyon spread out before 
them, General Gordon was regarding Grace per- 
plexedly. 

“I believe she really intends to try it,” he 
muttered. “How, I do not know. She does, 
though, and I have no doubt the plan is already 
clearly outlined under that head of fair brown 
hair. ’ ’ 

“So you do not believe I can do it, eh?” 
chided Grace, favoring the officer with a bril- 
liant smile. 

“Do not believe — Mrs. Gray, are you a mind 
reader ? ’ ’ demanded the general. 

“When a mental process is reflected in a face 
as it has been in yours for the last five minutes, 
the reading is easy.” 

The general shrugged his shoulders in true 
French form. 

“I give up,” he exclaimed. 

“I wish the walls of this ancient place might 
be read as easily,” added Grace. “Do you 
think the ladies can stand a climb to the top of 
the mountain?” 

“Oh, yes; it is not a long nor a very hard 
climb, I should judge from the looks of it,” re- 
plied the general. 

It was decided to leave the hampers at the 
lunching place, but to carry their mess kits. 
Grace told Ike Fairweather to take the rope 


232 


GRACE HARLOWE 


with him, as it might be needed. In her own kit 
she carried a ball of stout twine, ammunition 
for her rifle and for the automatic that swung 
in its holster. 

“All is ready. Please take your time, ladies, 
and if you tire, you must say so, ’ ’ she directed. 

“We follow where you lead, Mrs. Gray,” 
promised Miss Cartwright dramatically. 

“Don’t make rash promises, Miss Cart- 
wright,” warned the general. “You don’t 
know what you are promising. I think I do. ’ ’ 

“Just wait and see,” teased the young 
woman. 

It was a hard hike to the brow of the moun- 
tain, taking nearly two hours, at the rate they 
traveled. The party finally came out on a 
broad table of rock, from which the mountain 
sloped away a short distance, then took a sheer 
drop of a thousand feet. 

None of the party ventured to look over the 
brink until Grace finally did so, then turned 
laughingly to Miss Cartwright. 

“Are you following?” 

“Yes.” Miss Cartwright stepped up beside 
Grace and gazed off over the great precipice. 

Suddenly the army officer’s sister swayed 
dizzily, and, had Grace lost her head for a sec- 
ond, a disaster probably would have resulted. 
Grace’s arm quickly encircled the waist of Miss 



Grace Disappeared Over the Edge. 
233 


234 


GRACE HARLOWE 


Cartwright and drew her back, now in a faint- 
ing condition. The dizzy height had been too 
much for the young woman’s nerves. Grace 
gravely handed her over to Colonel Cartwright. 

“I am sorry, sir, that I encouraged her. It 
was not prudent of me at all,” she said. 

Grace, after studying the face of the cliff for 
a few moments, stepped back and spoke to Ike 
Fairweather, pointing to a projecting tower of 
rock that crowned the tableland like a monu- 
ment. 

“You can snub the rope around that,” she 
said. 

“Mrs. Gray, surely you are not going to try 
that desperate descent?” begged General Gor- 
don. 

“Try is the word, General. If you think it 
advisable, take Mrs. Gordon and Miss Cart- 
wright for a walk. To see me go over may 
upset them. The descent is perfectly safe, pro- 
vided the rope doesn’t break. I have my rea- 
sons, other than mere curiosity, for attempting 
to get to the Community House down there. ’ ’ 

“Very good, Mrs. Gray. Depend upon me 
for whatever I may be able to do. I think I 
understand your real motive. Do not worry 
about the ladies ; if they cannot stand it to see 
you go over they can turn their backs on you.” 

Preparations were quickly made, Miss Cart- 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 235 


wright observing wide-eyed and a little pale. 
Ike had made a sling with a board bottom for 
Grace to sit in. In addition to this, she slipped 
a loop of the rope under her shoulders. Grace 
then produced the ball of strong twine from 
her kit, and made an end fast to the “monu- 
ment.” She directed that some one keep hold 
of the twine at all times for signals. 

6 ‘ One pull will mean that I have a message to 
send up; two pulls will advise you that I am 
to be hauled up,” Grace informed them. “Are 
you ready?” 

“Ready!” announced the four men in chorus. 
General Gordon added that he would stand at 
the upper edge of the slope and watch Grace 
over its lower edge, from which point she would 
have a sheer drop of what he estimated to be 
about three hundred feet to the cliff dwelling. 

“Loyalheart! Do be careful,” admonished 
Elfreda anxiously. “I know there is no use 
trying to dissuade you from attempting this 
foolish thing, so we can do nothing except to 
wish you luck. ’ ’ 

“Yes you can — you can hold fast to the rope,” 
corrected Grace. Smiling and nodding to her 
companions, she took a final look about, then 
crept cautiously down to the edge of the slope, 
where the sheer drop began, waved a hand and 
disappeared over the edge of the precipice, 


236 


GRACE HARLOWE 


CHAPTER XXIII 

BETWEEN EAETH AND SKY 

B EFORE starting on her perilous venture, 
Grace had directed that the rope be paid 
out slowly, so as not to set up so much 
friction that the rope would be in danger of 
burning. 

As she went over, Grace took one look below 
her and closed her eyes, but after a few mo- 
ments she summoned her courage, opened her 
eyes and looked down. She could see, directly 
beneath her, the ledge under which the Clift 
Dwellers’ Community House had been con- 
structed. Out in front of the ledge were the 
white stone walls and part of the roof of the 
ancient structure, which she was on her way to 
explore. 

i i Getting down is easy. It is getting back 
that is going to be the big problem , 9 9 muttered 
the plucky girl. “It is worth the risk. Think 
of it, Grace Harlowe, you possibly will be the 
first human being to set foot on that shelf of 
rock in ten centuries, perhaps ten times ten cen- 
turies.” 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 237 


Grace wriggled and twisted herself into posi- 
tion for a suitable landing, and, as it was, she 
grazed the wall of the cliff dwelling, slipping 
down the side of it, kicking out vigorously to 
keep from tearing her clothing on the protrud- 
ing points of stone, until her feet touched the 
ground. 

i ‘ Down ! Harlowe luck is with me thus far . 9 7 
Grace hastily penciled a note, reading : 

“ Arrived safely. Send the string hack with 
a small stone to weight it. Fine view down 
here. I start exploring. Don’t worry if you 
don’t hear from me for an hour or so.” 

One tug on the line, and the Overton girl was 
rewarded by seeing her message slowly rising 
at the end of the twine. 

Grace thereupon took account of her sur- 
roundings. With her glass she picked up the 
Lodge, then the tiny dots that she knew were the 
Overland Riders ’ tents. It was a clear view to 
the camp, and, as Grace described it to herself, 
a good shooting range. 

Now began her explorations. There were 
heaps of rotted stone and adobe mortar all 
about, but taking it all in all, the community 
house appeared to be in an excellent state of 
preservation. Grace took her time, and moved 
slowly, using extreme caution, not knowing 
what emergency she might have to meet at any 


238 


GRACE HARLOWE 


moment. Over heaps of stone and rubbish she 
climbed to such chambers as she could reach. 
The ceilings in the Community House were so 
low that she was obliged to stoop; window 
apertures were no more than six inches across 
and of equal height, but the light shed by these 
was sufficient to enable her to pick her way 
about. 

The mustiness of centuries hung heavy on the 
air despite the ventilation, and birds, disturbed 
by her entrance, gave Grace a start as they 
winged their way toward the light. Not a relic, 
however, did the Overton girl find in her search 
of the chambers. 

On coming out of the cliff dwelling, Grace 
suddenly halted and sniffed the air. 

1 1 That smells like a dead fire, ’ ’ she muttered. 
“ Perhaps I have company here.” Picking her 
way cautiously in under the ledge that formed 
a partial roof for the ancient Community 
House, Grace found herself in a vast, tunnel- 
like opening. Black darkness lay ahead of her, 
but the odor of a dead fire grew stronger in her 
nostrils as she proceeded. 

Grace now brought her flash lamp from her 
pocket, passing it to her left hand, and, holding 
the automatic in a firm grip in her right, she ad- 
vanced, prepared for emergencies. 

She examined the walls briefly. From their 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 239 


smoothness, it occurred to Grace that water had 
once flowed through the tunnel. How far back 
the tunnel led into the mountain she could not 
even guess, but it was reasonable to suppose 
that it was not a waterway when the Cliff 
Dwellers lived there. 

“Iam getting near it ! The dead fire odor is 
growing stronger !” Grace told herself in a 
whisper. “I believe my surmises are correct. 
How I wish one of the men were with me. How- 
ever, Pm in it and must go through with it,” 
she muttered. 

Using her flash lamp to guard against step- 
ping into a pitfall, the Overton girl picked her 
way cautiously along. Here and there were 
huge crevices in the wall of the tunnel, which, as 
Grace described it to herself, was in reality 
“the rear yard of the ancient Cliff Dwellers.” 

The crevices, as she shot rays of light into 
them, were dark and forbidding, but, looking 
back, the white towers of the Community House 
stood out reassuringly. 

“Ah!” 

Grace had stepped into a heap of ashes and 
they felt warm under her feet. Stooping over 
and running her hand into the mass she found 
that the ashes, at the bottom, really were warm. 

“There has been a recent fire here, but the 
ashes are several hours old. I wish Tom were 


240 


GRACE HARLOWE 


here. He could tell me, -within half an hour, 
just how long ago this heap was a blazing fire. 
Let me reason this out.” Grace leaned against 
the wall and reflected. 

‘ i Some one has been in this place within a 
dozen hours or so. It is reasonable to assume, 
too, that they did not come over the precipice ; 
hence there must be some other entrance, some 
other way, and perhaps an easier one. I am 
going on.” 

Grace started ahead resolutely, now and then 
flashing a ribbon of light to the floor directly 
ahead of her. Her keenness was rewarded a 
few moments later, and the Overton girl, drop- 
ping to her knees, examined the rocky floor with 
great care. 

What Grace had discovered was the imprint 
of a heavy-soled boot, faint but clearly defined. 
Her next discovery was a frying pan, some tin 
plates and a heap of bones that looked as if they 
might be beef bones. 

“They surely live well up here. I — ” 

Grace jumped. That is, her nerves did ; her 
body did not move at all, but she heard her heart 
beat, and it was pounding fast and hard. 
What had disturbed and startled her was a 
groan, a distinctly human groan, and then deep 
silence settled over the tunnel, broken only by 
the faint, repressed breathing of Grace herself. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 241 


The natural impulse was to turn on her light, 
hut Grace Harlowe was too prudent to do that 
just yet. She preferred to wait and listen. 
This policy produced results. A second groan, 
more prolonged than before, followed. 

It was a human groan of distress that she had 
heard, though whether real or feigned the girl 
was unable to decide in her own mind, but she 
now realized that she must make the advance 
herself. Arriving at this decision, Grace 
turned on her light, and, with the automatic re- 
volver thrust ahead of her, ready for instant 
use, she began a cautious seach for the source 
of the voice. 

6 6 Groan again, so I may know where you are, ’ r 
she called softly. “If you are hoping to play a 
trick on me I shall shoot on sight ! ’ ’ 

The response came back almost at once, the 
voice sounding ahead of her and to the right 
side of the tunnel. She moved forward with 
renewed caution, and, a few steps further on, 
as she flashed her ribbon of light into a niche in 
the wall of the tunnel, she saw him. 

Grace approached cautiously, still holding her 
weapon at ready, for, though she was looking 
down on a man, apparently bound and gagged, 
she proposed to take no more than the abso- 
lutely necessary chances. 

Leaning over, with the revolver pointed down 

16 Grace Harlowe on Apache Trail 


242 


GRACE HARLOWE 


at him, Grace turned the light of her lamp into 
the face of the owner of the voice. As she did 
so she uttered an exclamation of amazement. 


CHAPTER XXIV 

GRACE SOLVES THE MOUNTAIN MYSTERY 

“TOE SMOKY FACE!” cried Grace Har- 
1 lowe. “ What does this mean?” 

“Me kill um!” raged the Indian who 
had guarded their ponies on the night of the 
Overland Riders’ arrival, after Grace had re- 
moved the gag from his mouth. 

“Kill whom?” 

“Con Bates and Ben Jackson.” 

Grace freed the man from his bonds. 

“Are there rifles here?” 

“Yes.” 

1 1 Get two, quick, if you know where they are. 
Is any one else here in this place ? ’ 9 

“All gone. Not come back till moonrise. 
When come back mebby kill white girls. Catch 
Joe Smoky Face and fetch here.” 

“Joe, did you shoot that arrow into our camp 
to warn us?” demanded Grace, a sudden light 
flooding her mentality. 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 243 


4 4 Me shoot arrow. ’ ’ Joe ran down the tun- 
nel a few yards and returned with two rifles, 
both loaded. 

4 4 Now we are all right, if you are certain that 
no one will come here. Tell me as quickly as 
you can, what happened to you.” 

Prom the Indian’s monosyllables, and, using 
her imagination freely, Grace inferred that Joe 
had overheard the bandits when they were spy- 
ing on the Overland Riders ’ camp, and, after 
the men had gone away as Joe supposed, he had 
fired the arrow into the camp to warn Grace 
Harlowe and her friends. The bandits, how- 
ever, had not gone away, and when they saw 
what Joe had done, they suddenly fell upon him, 
bound and gagged him and carried him to their 
lair in the ancient Community House of the 
Cliff Dwellers. 

4 4 Was Con Bates one of those men?” she 
asked. 

4 4 Him come along . 1 9 

4 4 Who is Ben Jackson?” 

4 4 Bad man who follow white girls till Bates 
make escape at Globe and come along to help. 
Much bad men. Steal much. Plenty here. 
lYou find. Joe Smoky Face know where.” 

4 4 You say they have gone to Globe. Con 
Bates would not dare to go there. How did he 
get out of jail?” 


244 


GRACE HARLOWE 


“Not know. Mebby he not go Globe to-day. 
Ren Jackson he go. Mebby Con he stay in 
bushes.” 

“How many men come here?” 

Joe counted six on his fingers. 

‘ ‘ Show me the way out, ’ ’ demanded Grace. 

“Hole in mountain. Joe show. Joe show 
other things. ’ ’ 

The Indian did. He led the Overton girl into 
dark recesses in the wall of the tunnel, where, 
by the light of her lamp, she saw plunder that 
made her eyes widen. It was mostly small mer- 
chandise, but valuable. There were gold and 
silver articles and some precious stones, but not 
many, that Grace, in her hasty examination, 
thought were of considerable value. 

In another cache there were silks, carefully 
wrapped, and a regular arsenal of rifles, re- 
volvers and ammunition, all probably stolen. 
Grace Harlowe ’s eyes glowed. 

“Were those men here last night — I mean did 
they shoot from out there?” pointing to the 
mouth of the cave of the Cliff Dwellers. 

“Yes, shoot at white girls’ camp.” 

“I thought so. When I saw the flashes from 
their rifles, and this morning looked at this place 
with my glasses, I made up my mind that the 
shots had been fired from here. Joe, we must 
catch these men, every one of them. Do you 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 245 


think you can get back to your people without 
being seen, provided any of the bandits should 
still be about your camp 1 ’ ’ 

“ Joe get back.” 

“Very good. Go back to your camp on the 
mountain side and send a trustworthy Indian to 
get the sheriff. I will send a letter by you to 
the clerk at the Lodge, and he can telephone for 
the sheriff. When the sheriff and his party are 
found, have them led here, but do not try to get 
here until dark. Do the bandits keep a guard 
on the outside of this place at night?” 

“ Joe not know.” 

The Indian was trotting ahead, Grace light- 
ing the way with her lamp. She observed that 
the instinct of the Indian enabled him to follow 
the outward trail with as little difficulty as if he 
had been over it many times. 

“Come end now,” finally announced Joe, 
the trail having narrowed down so that they 
were obliged to go in single file. It was dark as 
night where they were, but Joe knew how to 
reach the light. She saw him put a shoulder to 
the low roof and lift from a narrow opening a 
slab of rock, which he cautiously shoved an inch 
or so to one side, and for several minutes stood 
with eyes at the crack he had made. 

“All gone,” said Joe, pushing the slab of rock 
aside. 


246 


GRACE HARLOWE 


Following her guide, Grace crawled out and 
looked about her. The opening through which 
she had emerged was on the sloping side of the 
mountain, well screened by cactus. The Indian 
replaced the slab of stone, which then looked to 
be a part of the cavern wall. 

* ‘ Very simple,” muttered Grace, gazing 
about her and fixing every detail of the sur- 
roundings in her mind. The Overton girl then 
wrote a note to the clerk of the Lodge, telling 
him exactly what was to be done, and that she 
would remain on watch awaiting the arrival of 
the officers after dark. She handed the note to 
Joe Smoky Face. 

“ Joe, you will come back with the sheriff, so 
he will not miss the place. I have written that 
you will. Go, now ! 9 1 

The Indian trotted away and Grace saw him 
secrete the rifle he had brought out with him. 
Following his departure Grace got her bearings 
and started around the mountain to rejoin her 
friends whom she knew were anxiously await- 
ing a signal from her. 

The amazement of the Overland Riders and 
their friends when Grace came walking in 
among them was too great for words for a few 
seconds ; then the Overlanders gave a shout. 

“We must pack up at once and the party 
must return to the Lodge. IVe made a great 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 247 


discovery and solved the mystery of the Apache* 
Trail,” she announced. 

Grace then briefly related the story of her ad- 
venture and told the party what she wished 
them to do. 

‘ 4 Above all, say nothing to any person outside 
of our circle. Do not even discuss our discov- 
ery among yourselves where possibly you may 
he overheard, for those men probably have con- 
federates. I wish them to come back so we may 
capture them. Miss Cartwright, will you ride 
my pony back to camp ? ’ ’ 

“Yes. Why?” 

‘ ‘ So that the same number of persons may re- 
turn on horseback. Go directly to the camp, 
then walk back to the Lodge. I shall remain on 
the mountain to watch the tunnel entrance. ’ ’ 

“Not alone, Mrs. Gray. Surely, we cannot 
permit you to do that,” objected General Gor- 
don. “I shall remain there with you.” 

Grace shook her head. 

“It won’t do. Your absence would cause 
comment, which is exactly what I do not wish. 
Having rifle and revolver I shall be able to take 
care of myself. All that I shall attempt to do 
is to watch for the return of the bandits and 
make certain that they do not post a sentry 
outside. You must be going now, but for good- 
ness sake pull up that rope and string, and 


248 


GRACE HARLOWE 


leave me some food to carry in my kit. It is 
probable that I shall not be back until late to- 
night.” 

Ike hurriedly packed up, and after good-byes 
had been said the party started down the moun- 
tain side on their way to the point where their 
horses were tethered. Grace soon lost sight of 
them, then, tucking the rifle under her arm, she 
walked slowly around the mountain, and down, 
until she came within sight of the opening 
through which she had made her exit from the 
tunnel. 

After watching for some time, Grace sought 
a hiding place, which she found in a slight de- 
pression behind a shelf of shale rock. She 
knew that there were long, weary hours of wait- 
ing ahead of her, but Grace was determined, 
now that the opportunity was hers, to turn the 
tables for good on the men who had tormented 
the Overland Riders. 

Con Bates had escaped; how, she could not 
imagine, and Ben Jackson had assumed to 
himself the task of revenging the bandits ’ 
grudge against the Overland outfit that had ob- 
jected to being held up and robbed. 

Grace passed most of the time resting, lying 
back gazing at the sky and the mountains that 
stretched away for many miles. At dusk she 
nibbled at her luncheon, then settled down in 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 249 


earnest to her vigil. A new moon hung high in 
the west, which she knew would shed a faint 
light on her elevated position until well into the 
evening. 

Ten o ’clock came, but still no bandits. A few 
moments after ten o’clock, however, Grace’s 
patience was rewarded. She discovered a 
crouching figure, which at first she took to be an 
Indian, but a moment later saw that it was a 
white man. He was followed at intervals by 
five others, all cautiously approaching the tun- 
nel entrance. After a careful scrutiny of the 
entrance, and, apparently finding nothing 
wrong there, the six men entered, after one had 
removed the stone. After the six men had 
crawled in, the tunnel opening was closed be- 
hind them. 

Grace waited a few moments, then, springing 
up, ran to the scene, and began piling rocks on 
the entrance slab, some being so heavy that she 
was obliged to roll them. This she continued 
until her hands were blistered and her back was 
aching desperately. 

“There! I’d like to see a bandit get out 
now,” emphasized the Overland Rider, drawing 
oft a little way, and sitting down with rifle at 
ready in her lap. 

Not a sound was heard from the tunnel en- 
trance for nearly an hour, then a faint tapping 


250 


GRACE HARLOWE 


there indicated to her that the bandits were try- 
ing to break their way out, the prisoner’s es- 
cape, no doubt, having been discovered. 

Grace fired her rifle into the pile of rocks, 
whereupon the tapping ceased, but her vigil be- 
came an anxious one from that moment on. 
Shortly after midnight the Overton girl discov- 
ered a shadowy figure creeping toward her over 
the . rocks. Grace eyed it keenly, then levelled 
her rifle at it. 

* ‘ Hands up!” she commanded sharply. 

Joe Smoky Face rose and waved a hand. 

“All right! I know you,” called Grace in a 
relieved tone of voice. “Where is the sheriff ? ’ ’ 

“Him come.” Joe uttered a whistle, where- 
upon Jim Collins, with his deputy, Wheaton, 
and a posse of ten men, including General Gor- 
don and Lieutenant Wingate, clambered up the 
rocks. 

“Your men are over there, Sheriff. I have 
blocked the entrance, and believe they are near 
it now,” Grace informed the sheriff as he came 
up to her. 

“Is there no other way by which they can get 
out, Miss ! ” he asked. 

“No, sir.” 

“You know the lay of the land; what do you 
suggest ? ’ ’ 

“Remove the rocks that I have piled up until 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 251 


you come to the slab. Tell the men — there are 
six in there — to lay down their arms and come 
out, one at a time. Should they refuse, you 
might tell them you will keep them bottled up 
until they surrender, even if it takes a month. ’ ’ 

The loose stones were immediately removed, 
as Grace had suggested ; whereupon the sheriff 
delivered his ultimatum to the bandits. Lieuten- 
ant Wingate, in the meantime, had formed the 
posse on the upper side of the tunnel opening. 

Several minutes elapsed without a sound be- 
ing heard from the tunnel, then a voice called to 
Sheriff Collins. 

“We surrender! Don’t shoot !” 

“Look out for tricks !” warned Grace Har- 
lowe. ‘ ‘ I think that is Con Bates speaking. ’ ’ 

The bandits pushed the slab from the open- 
ing and came out singly and apparently un- 
armed. 

“Look out!” cried Grace sharply. 

Almost in the same instant a revolver in the 
hands of Con Bates was fired. The five other 
bandits instantly began banging away at the 
posse, at the same time scattering and starting 
to run. 

“Let ’em have it low! Don’t kill them, 
please,” begged Grace. 

Sheriff Collins downed Con Bates with a bul- 
let in his shoulder. 


252 


GRACE HARLOWE 


Grace took no part in the battle, but sat 
crouched, chin in hands, narrowly watching the 
fight while bullets whined over her head and 
ricochetted from the rocks on either side of her. 

The five bandits remaining after their leader 
had been downed were tumbled over with bul- 
lets in their legs in almost that many seconds. 
But the five were plucky. They struggled to 
their feet and again began firing. Two volleys 
from the posse put them down a second time, 
and this time they stayed down. 

* i That is what I call good shooting ! ’ ’ declared 
Grace Harlowe, standing up. 

“ Great work! Great work!” approved the 
general. 

“A fine bunch of critters, you are!” raged 
the sheriff, addressing the defeated bandits. 
“ Ought to finish you right here. Thank this 
woman that I don’t do that very thing. I’ll do 
it anyhow if any one of you galoots so much as 
bats an eyelash. Throw those guns away!” 
roared Mr. Collins. 

The Bates gang gave up and were quickly 
manacled and searched for further weapons. 
The prisoners secured, Sheriff Collins strode 
over to Grace. 

“ Shake, Pard!” he cried, thrusting out a 
wiry brown hand. “Bet you’d face an old she 
bear with cubs, an ’ laugh at her when she made 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 253 


murder faces at you. We won’t have any more 
trouble with these critters. I reckon we’ve got 
the whole gang now, an’ the trail is clear, 
thanks to you an’ your friends.” 

At Grace’s suggestion, Joe led the sheriff and 
some of his men to the tunnel, where a large 
amount of valuable plunder was recovered. 
That night the prisoners were bound to horses 
and started for the jail at Globe where, this 
time, they remained until eventually sentenced 
to long terms in prison. Of Belle Bates, no 
trace was found. The guests of the Lodge next 
day gave a dance in honor of the Overlanders, 
to whom belonged the honor of ridding the 
Apache Trail of the last band of desperate men 
that had preyed upon it. 

General Gordon and his party left a day later, 
after good-byes had been regretfully said. At 
Grace ’s suggestion a purse was made up by the 
girls for Joe Smoky Face, after he had assisted 
Ike Fairweather to pack the equipment in readi- 
ness for moving next day, and early on the fol- 
lowing morning the Overland Riders set out in 
their saddles for the long journey to Phoenix, 
where they arrived a week later, tanned by sun 
and weather, eyes sparkling and spirits ef- 
fervescing. 

That day they bade farewell to the faithful 
old stagecoach driver, who had already shipped 


254 


GRACE HARLOWE 


their ponies by rail, and was to follow the ani- 
mals on to Globe that night. 

In the evening, the Overland Riders held a 
meeting at the hotel, at which they discussed 
their future plans. It was decided to make the 
organization a permanent one, and to seek 
recreation and adventure in the saddle each sea- 
son, until they tired of it. 

It had been a wonderful vacation, with just 
enough excitement to make it interesting, as 
Grace expressed it, leaving the girls of the old 
Overton Unit better physically and mentally, 
with a new beauty in face and figure, each better 
equipped to meet life’s responsibilities through 
the coming year. 

“We have not decided where we shall go on 
our next journey,” reminded Elfreda Briggs 
next day, after the Overlanders had settled 
themselves in a Pullman car for the homeward 
journey. 

“I was just thinking of a suggestion offered 
by Mr. Fairweather, ” said Grace. “In tell- 
ing me of the adventures of a cousin of his on 
the American Desert, he casually mentioned 
that some time we should try to make the jour- 
ney across it in the saddle. ’ ’ 

“What is there there?” questioned Anne. 

“Principally sand and terrific heat. Cross- 


ON THE OLD APACHE TRAIL 255 


ing the desert on horseback really is a tremen- 
dous undertaking, but, if not strenuous enough 
to satisfy us, we might even essay Death Val- 
ley. Mr. Fairweather said we could get his 
cousin to act as our guide. I am rather inclined 
toward the Great American Desert. 

“ Alors! Let’s go,” urged Elfreda Briggs. 

“ Other things being equal, what do you say, 
folks?” questioned Grace smilingly. 

“Yes!” answered the Overlanders enthusi- 
astically. 

Grace chuckled. 

“You do not know it, of course, but, now that 
you have decided, I am going to say that you 
Overlanders are headed straight for an ad- 
venture that will satisfy even Hippy Wingate. 
I have no doubt the desert is yawning for us at 
this very moment,” declared Grace. 

As later events proved, Grace Harlowe was 
not a false prophet, and, in a following volume, 
entitled “Grace Harlowe ’s Overland Riders 
on the Great American Desert,” will be re- 
lated the experiences of these adventure-loving 
girls amid scenes new to them, and in facing 
trials that called for sheer pluck and clear heads 
while riding the trackless alkali desert of the 
Great West. 


THE END 












































































































































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The principal characters in these narratives are manly, young 
Americans whose doings will inspire all boy readers. 

1 DICK PRESCOTT’S FIRST YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or, 

Two Chums in the Cadet Gray. 

2 DICK PRESCOTT’S SECOND YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or, 

Finding the Glory of the Soldier’s Life. 

3 DICK PRESCOTT’S THIRD YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or, 

Standing Firm for Flag and Honor. 

4 DICK PRESCOTT’S FOURTH YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or, 

Ready to Drop the Gray for Shoulder Straps. 

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, $1.00 


Annapolis Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

The Spirit of the new Navy is delightfully and truthfully depicted 
in these volumes. 

x DAVE DARRIN’S FIRST YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS ; Or, Two 
Plebe Midshipmen at the U. S. Naval Academy, 
s DAVE DARRIN’S SECOND YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS; Or, 
Two Midshipmen as Naval Academy “Youngsters.” 

3 DAVE DARRIN’S THIRD YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS ; Or, Lead- 

ers of the Second Class Midshipmen. 

4 DAVE DARRIN'S FOURTH YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS; Or, 

Headed for Graduation and the Big Cruise. 

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, $1.00 


The Young Engineers Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

The heroes of these stories are known to readers of the High 
School Boys Series. In this new series Tom Reade and Harry 
Hazelton prove worthy of all the traditions of Dick & Co. 

1 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN COLORADO ; Or, At Railroad 

Building in Earnest. 

2 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN ARIZONA ; Or, Laying Tracks 

on the “Man-Killer” Quicksand. 

3 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN NEVADA; Or, Seeking For- 

tune on the Turn of a Pick. 

4 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN MEXICO; Or, Fighting the 

Mine Swindlers. 

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, $1.00 


Soys of the Army Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

These books breathe the life and spirit of the United States 
Army of to-day, and the life, just as it is, is described by a mas- 
ter pen. 

1 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS IN THE RANKS; Or, Two Recruits 

in the United States Army. 

2 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS ON FIELD DUTY; Or, Winning 

Corporal’s Chevrons. 

3 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS AS SERGEANTS; Or, Handling 

Their First Real Commands. 

4 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS IN THE PHILIPPINES; Or, Fol- 

lowing the Flag Against the Moros. 

6 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS AS LIEUTENANTS; Or, Serving 

Old Glory as Line Officers. 

7 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS WITH PERSHING; Or, Dick Pres- 

cott at Grips with the Boche. 

8 UNCLE SAM’S BOYS SMASH THE GERMANS; Or, Wind- 

ing Up the Great War. 

Dave Darrin Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

1 DAVE DARRIN AT VERA CRUZ; Or, Fighting With the 

U. S. Navy in Mexico. 

2 DAVE DARRIN ON MEDITERRANEAN SERVICE. 

3 DAVE DARRIN’S SOUTH AMERICAN CRUISE. 

4 DAVE DARRIN ON THE ASIATIC STATION. 

5 DAVE DARRIN AND THE GERMAN SUBMARINES. 

6 DAVE DARRIN AFTER THE MINE LAYERS ; Or, Hit- 

ting the Enemy a Hard Naval Blow. 


The Meadow-Brook Girls Series 

By JANET ALDRIDGE 

1 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS UNDER CANVAS. 

2 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS ACROSS COUNTRY. 

3 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS AFLOAT. 

4 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS IN THE HILLS. 

5 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS BY THE SEA. 

6 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS ON THE TENNIS 
' COURTS. 


All these books are bound in Cloth and will be sent post- 
paid on receipt of only . $1.00 each . 


High School Boys Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

In this series of bright, crisp books a new note has been struck. 
. Boys of every age under sixty will be interested in these fascinate 
xng volumes. 

3 THE HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMEN; Or, Dick & Co.’s First 
Year Pranks and Sports. 

2 THE HIGH SCHOOL PITCHER; Or, Dick & Co. on the 

Gridley Diamond. 

3 THE HIGH SCHOOL LEFT END; Or, Dick & Co. Grilling on 

the Football Gridiron. 

4 THE HIGH SCHOOL CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM; Or, Dick St 

Co. Leading the Athletic Vanguard. 

Cloth, Illustrate d Price, per Volume, $1.00 

Grammar School Boys Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

This series of stories, based on the actual doings of grammar 
School boys, comes near to the heart of the average American boy. 
x THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS OF GRIDLEY; Or, Dick 
& Co. Start Things Moving. 

2 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS SNOWBOUND; Or, Dick 

& Co. at Winter Sports. 

3 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS IN THE WOODS; Or, 

Dick & Co. Trail Fun and Knowledge. 

4 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS IN SUMMER ATHLETICS ; 

Or, Dick & Co. Make Their Fame Secure. 

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, $1.00 


H igh School Boys’ V acation Series 

By H. IRVING HANCOCK 

“Give us more Dick Prescott books !'* 

This has been the burden of the cry from young readers of the 
country over. Almost numberless letters have been received by the 
publishers, making this eager demand ; for Dick Prescott, Dave Dar- 
rin, Tom Reade, and the other members of Dick & Co. are the most 
popular high school boys in the land. Boys will alternately thrill 
and chuckle when reading these splendid narratives. 

:t THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS’ CANOE CLUB ; Or, Dick & Co.’s 
Rivals on Lake Pleasant. 

:2 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS IN SUMMER CAMP; Or, The 
Dick Prescott Six Training for the Gridley Eleven. 

$ THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS’ FISHING TRIP ; Or, Dick & Co. 
in the Wilderness. 

4 THE H^GH SCHOOL BOYS’ TRAINING HIKE; Or, Dick St 
Co. leaking Themselves “Hard as Nails/’ 

doth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, $1.00 


The Circus Boys Series 

By EDGAR B. P. DARLINGTON 

Mr. Darlington’s books breathe forth every phase of an intensely 
interesting and exciting life. 

1 THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE FLYING RINGS; Or, Making 

the Start in the Sawdust Life. 

2 THE CIRCUS BOYS ACROSS THE CONTINENT; Or, Win- 

ning New Laurels on the Tanbark. 

3 THE CIRCUS BOYS IN DIXIE LAND; Or, Winning the 

Plaudits of the Sunny South. 

4 THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI; Or, Afloat with 

the Big Show on the Big River. 

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, $1.00 


The High School Girls Series 

By JESSIE GRAHAM FLOWER, A. M. 

These breezy stories of the American High School Girl take the 
reader fairly by storm. 

1 GRACE HARLOWE’S PLEBE YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL; 

Or, The Merry Doings of the Oakdale Freshman Girls. 

2 GRACE HARLOWE’S SOPHOMORE YEAR AT HIGH 

SCHOOL; Or, The Record of the Girl Chums in Work and 
Athletics. 

3 GRACE HARLOWE’S JUNIOR YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL ; 

Or, Fast Friends in the Sororities. 

4 GRACE HARLOWE’S SENIOR YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL; 

Or, The Parting of the Ways. 

Cloth, Illustrated * Price, per Volume, $1.00 


The Automobile Girls Series 

By LAURA DENT CRANE 

No girl’s library — no family book-case can be considered at all 
complete unless it contains these sparkling twentieth-century books. 
1 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT NEWPORT; Or, Watching the Sum- 
mer Parade.— 2 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS IN THE BERKSHIRES ; 
Or, The Ghost o: Lost Man’s Trail.— 3 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS 
ALONG THE HUDSON; Or, Fighting Fire in Sleepy Hollow.— 
4 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT CHICAGO; Or, Winning Out 
Against Heavy Odds.— 5 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT PALM 
BEACH; Or, Proving Their Mettl° Under Southern Skies. — 6 THE 
AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT WASHINGTON; Or, Checkmating the 
Plots of Foreign Spies. 

Cloth, Illustrated 


Price, per Volume, $1.00 










































































































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